


you are the sun

by lavillanelle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Heartache, I'm sorry this wasn't supposed to be so sad, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Minor Allura/Lotor (Voltron), Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Post S7, S8 AU (sort of), S8 fix-it, Slow Burn, just so much pining, klangst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2019-10-03 16:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 173,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17287319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavillanelle/pseuds/lavillanelle
Summary: Lance has everything he’s ever wanted. He was back on Earth with his family. His cargo pilot days were behind him. And he had finally gotten the girl.He should be happy.But something was missing.Someone.How many times would Lance watch Keith walk back into his life only to be ripped away from his arms again?How many times could Lance lose him before finally breaking?





	1. part i - burning all the bridges

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Voltron fam! This is my very first time writing for this fandom, so please forgive me if the characters are a bit out of it. Also, english is not my mother tongue, so if any of you happen to find any spelling mistakes or grammar errors, please let me know so I can fix it.  
> And now, moving on to the important things...  
> I started writing this fic before S8 aired and I was hoping to post it sooner, but I'm a slow writer, I guess. So a lot of things will go down differently than what happened in canon. And, well, since all of us are still healing from the epic disaster that was S8, I suppose this is now a fix-it fic of sorts. Also, I would like to thank @starlightments for being the sweetest and encouraging me to write this and giving some good tips. Thank you, Star, you are the best!  
> You can find me on tumblr as @vlctorvale so feel free to send me any asks about this story there.  
> I hope you enjoy it and happy reading!  
> Ps. I don't own Voltron, but I wish I did...

**part i**

**burning all the bridges**

* * *

_Now we're burning all the bridges now_   
_Watching it go up in flames_   
_No way to build it up again_   
_And we're burning all the bridges now_   
_'Cause it was sink or swim_   
_And I went down, down, down_

* * *

 

Home.

He was back home, at last.

Lance tasted the word on his tongue and was left with bitterness. He was breathing the soft breeze and he could feel the sun kissing his skin, his feet stood on solid ground. He was on Earth. _Home._ The thought left him slightly breathless. It sounded like a dream, distant and unreachable.

And yet…

Lance’s wishes had all come true. He had been accepted back at the Garrison, he could hold his family in his arms and breathe the salt in their skin, and he had finally gotten the girl. He still blushed at the memory of Allura calling out to him, asking him to be safe, to come back to her. If he closed his eyes, he was able to conjure the sweet taste of her lips as they moved against his for the first time. He remembered what it felt like to run his fingers through thick locks of silvery hair and how warm her skin felt under his touch. Whenever she left him behind, he couldn’t help but be reminded of fleeting summer days, their beauty and their warmth gone far too early.

Lance had everything he had ever wished for.

And still wasn’t enough.

He should be happy. He should feel whole. He should be able to smile more brightly, to laugh more freely, to breathe more easily. But nothing seemed to be able to placate the overwhelming pain that has been slowly ripping him apart. He no longer could remember a time when he wasn’t plagued with it. The pain had become an intrinsic part of him, perpetually cut in half. Perhaps he should simply accept the fact that for the remaining of his short human life he would have to walk every step and breathe every breath feeling as if there were a thousand blades piercing his chest, tearing ruthlessly through flesh and bone. He would never be whole. Something would always remain broken within him. A glitch in his code. Emptiness.

Lance let out a strangled sigh, briefly closing his eyes. He should be happy, then why wasn’t he? _What was wrong with me?_ He asked silently to himself, feeling that familiar weight settle down above his chest.

“Lance? ”

Allura called his name, eyeing him carefully as she rested a hand over his arm. Lance returned her gaze, struggling with the impulse he felt to flinch at her touch. He needed to fix whatever it was wrong with him. He needed to, he needed to, he needed to —

“Is everything alright?”

Lance blinked, coming out of his stupor.

“Y — Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know. You looked…” Allura bit her lower lip nervously. “You looked as if your body was here but your mind was miles away.”

Lance let out another sigh, forcing his lips into something that loosely resembled a smile. The gesture made his face hurt.

_Everything hurt,_ he thought bitterly.

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

He lied. But Allura’s frown had softened considerably. Somehow, she had believed him. Lance didn’t know if he should feel glad for this small blessing or disappointed over the fact that his own girlfriend couldn’t tell the difference between a lie and a truth coming out from his lips.

Lance felt a strange knot constricting his throat. He swallowed thickly, closing his hands into fists in a desperate attempt to hide the tremors from Allura. His body no longer seemed to belong to him, forsaking reason and answering solely to his most primitive impulses. Lance felt like an impostor, a liar, unable to keep himself under control.

He felt like drowning, sinking further in the same bottomless ocean where he had buried his true feelings. Feelings he was once too scared to face. Feelings he fought against with tooth and nail. Feelings that consumed his every thought and that burned with every heartbeat. He went down, down, down.

 “I — I should go. I was supposed to meet Hunk at the training room.” Lance said, stumbling on his own words.

_Lies, lies, lies,_ a voice whispered at the back of his mind.

“Oh,” Allura’s eyes widened a fraction with surprise. Lance felt something sting inside his chest as disappointment invaded her features. “We’ll see each other later, then?”

Lance nodded, but the smile plastered on his face lacked its usual warmth. If Allura noticed the difference she decided not to mention.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course! See you later, princess.”

He said before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, storming through the empty corridors soon after. Lance’s hurried steps echoed against the metal floor, ringing in his own ears like the bells of a church. He walked until the soles of his feet started throbbing, until he no longer recognized his surroundings, unable to tell in which sector of the Garrison he had accidentally entered. He walked, and walked, and walked.

Lance had no specific destination in mind and yet somehow, he found himself standing near one of the many training rooms distributed throughout the facility. He remembered going there when he was a young cadet, green and unexperienced. He couldn’t say his body had gone through any drastic changes ever since he last set foot in one of those rooms; he was still the proud owner of a pair of lanky arms and long legs. And, sure, he didn’t have Hunk’s broad shoulders or the defined muscles of Shiro’s arms, but he had grown stronger over the course of the years spent in space. There was some consolation in this, at least.

Lance heard the distinct sound of voices and ragged breathing coming from the other side of the automatic doors. The unmistakable clash of blades, bodies colliding against one another in a succession of blows, over and over and over again. Lance approached the training room with silent steps, curiously taking a glimpse of its interior through the small glass window carved in one of the doors. He inhaled sharply.

_Keith_.

Lance’s eyes widened a fraction as they landed on that familiar disheveled, black hair and those enigmatic, indigo eyes.

_Keith is here._

But he wasn’t alone.

A heartbeat later, Lance noticed the other figure standing before Keith. He recognized that pale blue skin and the dark hair that framed sharp, feminine features. _Acxa._ And, with the sudden realization, Lance felt his body be once again assaulted by terrible tremors. They crawled from the base of his spine, climbing over his torso like tiny spiders, reaching his shoulder blades and slowly spinning their invisible webs across Lance’s arms, creeping towards his hands, until he could no longer feel his fingertips.

Lance clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath to ground himself. He stepped forward once the tremors weakened, coming through the automatic doors. They opened with a soft hissing sound and Lance was welcomed by the cold atmosphere of the room. He frowned at the low temperature, but for the looks of it he appeared to be the only one affected by it. Perhaps it was biological and the presence of Galra genes made Keith and Acxa less susceptible to the cold.

But the fact remained that neither Keith, nor Acxa seemed to acknowledge Lance’s presence, too entranced by their violent exchange to realize there was a third body in the room with them. Lance felt a strange sense of disappointment. _Was he really that insignificant?_

Lance’s gaze lingered on Keith a moment longer. He watched in absolute awe as the other boy moved through the room, unbelievably fast and with infinite grace. He reminded Lance of a large feline, stalking his prey with a calculating gaze, assessing for weaknesses. Lance remained where he stood, silent and rigid. He was surprised by the sound of his own voice echoing against the cavernous space of his skull.

_Amazing,_ he thought. _Keith is amazing._

The realization startled Lance and, all of a sudden, he no longer felt like drowning in his own treacherous feelings. Instead, he found himself lost in a sea of molten lava, drifting away in the liquid fire licking the inside of his veins. It was a visceral, physical shock to him. And now he couldn’t find the strength within himself to breathe. Heat pooled under the surface, cheeks turned a darker shade, ears thrummed with the rapid flow of his blood, heart beat frantically against the confines of his ribcage.

_Oh,_ Lance thought. _Oh._

He turned on his heels to leave but a familiar voice called out his name. He stopped himself, hesitating. Lance had his hand stretched out before his body, aiming for the lock of the automatic doors. But he knew that voice. He would know that voice anywhere, at any corner of the vast universe. It was the voice that had kept him awake through endless nights. The voice that whispered in his ear in homesick dreams. The voice that promised endless amounts of pain in the most dreadful of nightmares.

The voice called him again and Lance didn’t think his name ever sounded so beautiful.

Keith’s voice was deep and husky and undeniably _his._

Lance could feel his resolve beginning to crumble. He wasn’t strong enough. He was never strong enough when it came down to Keith.

Eventually, Lance turned his body in order to face the dark-haired boy at the center of training room, panting and sweating. He stood only a couple feet away from him and Lance’s fingers ached with longing; the desire to touch, to put an end to the ever-growing distance between them.

“Lance? What are you doing here?” Keith asked, thick eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Beside him, Acxa watched in stark silence, face livid of any real emotion.

Lance cleared his throat before speaking, hiding his trembling hands inside the pockets of his pants. He noticed the way Acxa’s eyes seemed to follow his movements. Something heavy sank at the base of his stomach, leaving him with an uncomfortable feeling. There was something deeply unsettling about her. Something…

“Lance, have you listened to a word of what I was saying?”

_Keith._

Lance turned his gaze back to Keith.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” Lance managed to say, swallowing hard. “I was just thinking maybe I should train some more, you know? I should — _We_ should be prepared. Just in case.”

Keith lifted an eyebrow.

“Just in case of what? Another Earth invasion?” he asked, taking a step forward. Reflexively, Lance took another step backward. “Why do you say that? Have you heard anything from the Garrison?”

“What? N — No, no!” Lance shook his head, waving his hands frantically in front of his body. “I was just being cautious, I guess. That’s all.”

A small frown appeared between Keith’s eyebrows. He tipped his head to the side, the movement almost too small to notice, as he regarded Lance with inquisitive eyes. Lance ignored the way his heart clenched, invisible hands closing around his throat. He could hear his own pulse pumping in his ears, blood flowing at a faster rhythm than it did a second before.

“Is everything…” Keith hesitated before he continued. When he spoke again his voice reached a lower tone. “Is everything okay? You’re acting strange.”

Lance could feel the carefully built façade he had created for himself slowly fading away, taken away by the wind like tendrils of white smoke, until there was nothing left. He gulped as vulnerability seeped viciously through his veins, turning his blood into poison. He was slowly breaking apart, piece by piece.

_What was_ wrong _with him?_

The truth was nearly spilling from his pores, his lips trembled with the need to confess. A desperate sinner, longing for forgiveness. He craved absolution. Icy claws ripped their way through his lungs, making it harder and harder to breathe. He didn’t know how to do any of this. How to be honest, how to stop relying on his lies. He didn’t know how to stop hurting. He didn’t believe he deserved it.

Lying was easier. Safer. If Keith couldn’t see everything he had buried deep underneath his skin — the _real_ him —, then he wouldn’t have to fear the humiliation that would surely follow once his feelings broke free from the cage he had placed around his heart. The truth was an ugly thing. And so, he lied. He lied about being brave. He lied about hating Keith. He lied about being haunted by indigo eyes in his dreams. He lied to himself.

It was easier.

It was _all_ he had.

It was all he would ever have.

Carefully, he smoothed the edges of his folded façade, placing his _Lance_ _mask_ once again on his face. He schooled his features into one of his usual loop-sided smiles, snorting out a loud laughter.

“Everything’s fine, man. Pretty _perfecto_. It can’t get any better than this.” he said, giving a quick wink at the end of the sentence. His voice sounded alien to his own ears, strangely stable despite his fluttering heart.

Keith simply stared back at him, dark eyes searching for a rupture on the shield Lance had raised before himself.

He found nothing.

“Are you sure? You know… You know you can trust me, right? Because I want you to be able to tell me if something’s bothering you, Lance.” Keith said.

He took another step forward, resting a hand on Lance’s shoulder and applying a small pressure. Lance felt his body cave in, reluctant. But he couldn’t deal with any of this right now. He _couldn’t._ Resigned, Lance shook his head.

“Yes. I’m sure, Keith.” his voice was filled with certainty.

Keith flinched, as if he had been burned by blazing eyes, pools of liquid blue fire. Slowly, he retreated his hand from Lance’s tense shoulder. It felt wrong, something that resembled betrayal. Lance choked on imaginary water, black waves threatening to swallow him whole. He went under, pulled into the darkness by tentacles made of shadows, a monster of his own making.

Behind Keith, Acxa cleared her throat, reminding Lance they weren’t the only two people left on the galaxy. As much as he wanted it to be. Keith snapped his head, towards the sound of her voice. Lance’s eyes followed his.

“I have to go now. I’m late to meet with Veronica, she said earlier she wanted to talk to me about something. See you around, Keith.” she said as she passed by him, brushing her fingers on his arm.

Lance narrowed his eyes at her, studying her closely.

“Veronica? As in _my sister_ Veronica?” he asked.

Acxa simply nodded.

Lance lifted an eyebrow.

“What could she possibly want to talk to you?”

Lance could feel Keith’s eyes on him, but he chose to ignore it. Acxa gave a small shrug in return, a small smile tearing its way through her dark, blue lips.

“I wish I could stay and talk to you about it, paladin. But I’m already late as it is.” she said, her tone apologetic. “Excuse me.”

She spared Lance with a small nod as she left.

“Later, Acxa.”

Keith called after the sound of the automatic doors closing.

And then it was the just the two of them. Lance and Keith. Keith and Lance. Neck and Neck. Face to face.

“You and Acxa are friends now? And since when does she know my sister? What have I missed?” Lance blurted out, the words frantically escaping his mouth in a torrent of sound. Keith looked back at him and Lance felt like he was being buried alive under the weight of those midnight eyes.

_God, he was beautiful._

“We train together sometimes. I wouldn’t go as far as calling her a friend.” Keith said. Lance nodded in response, feeling unbelievably small. “Does that bother you?”

_Yes._

“No. Why would it bother me? There’s absolutely nothing to be bothered about. Nothing _at all._ ”

“Lance.”

“Keith.” Lance repeated mechanically.

“ _Lance._ ”

Lance let out an impatient sigh, crossing his arms in front of his chest defensively.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m cool with Acxa spending time with you. I really am. It does _not_ bother me, not in the slightest.” Lance insisted. Keith looked unconvinced. “What do you want me to say, Keith?”

Keith shrugged.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“Well, there’s nothing to tell. So just… Let it go, Keith.”

Keith let out a heavy, tired sigh.

“Well, in that case, do you want to replace her as my training partner?” Keith asked. Lance momentarily forgot how to breathe. He opened his mouth to reply but no sound came out. Keith continued. “I mean, that’s why you came here, right? To train?”

Lanced swallowed thickly, purposefully ignoring the heat spreading across his face.

“Yeah, sure. We can train together. That’s what fellow paladins do. They train. Together. They train _together._ And that’s what we are. Paladins. Partners…”

Lance started to ramble but was suddenly interrupted.

“Friends.” Keith cut in. Lance gaped, like a fish out of water. He stopped midsentence, staring back at Keith with wide, blue eyes.

“What?”

“We’re not just fellow paladins. We’re more than that… We — We’re friends, right?” Keith stammered, refusing to look Lance in the eyes. Lance couldn’t find his voice, lost somewhere deep within him. Instead, he nodded. “Then suit up and get your bayard. We have already wasted too much time.”

Keith gave his back to Lance, returning to the center of the room. He carried his Marmoran blade with ease between long and no doubt calloused fingers, leaving a dumbstruck Lance behind. He could still hear Keith’s words ringing in his ears, loud and clear as bells.

_Friends,_ he said. _We’re friends._

“Lance, are you coming or not?” Keith asked from where he stood, casually holding his sword at the side of his body, hips slightly tilted to the side. He seemed so relaxed out there, like he belonged. Lance wondered what it must feel like, to belong somewhere. Anywhere.

Keith’s voice propelled Lance forward, and he made his way to the small closet he knew was built-in in one of the walls, where all the training gear was safely stored. He took one last furtive glance back at Keith before he began discarding the clothing pieces of his brand-new Garrison uniform, paladin blue instead of the standard orange. He could see Keith’s red uniform rumpled at the corner of the room, laying on the floor next to his boots and fingerless gloves.

Unlike Keith, Lance carefully folded his clothes, leaving them tucked inside the closet. Once he was done, he picked up his red bayard and turned to face Keith from across the room. To Lance’s utmost surprise, he found Keith’s eyes already on him. For a moment, Lance thought he might lose his balance from the intensity of that gaze alone. But, somehow, he managed to remain standing on his feet. _Small victories,_ Lance thought thankfully.

“Are you ready?” Keith asked. His voice sounded deeper, rougher than before, almost as if he had swallowed a piece of sandpaper.

Lance nodded, approaching Keith with careful steps. As they grew closer to one another, Lance couldn’t help but notice how Keith’s cheeks seemed to have turned a deeper, darker shade of red. Was Keith _blushing_? Or was Lance’s more than vivid imagination playing tricks on him?

_The second option, more likely._

It was stupid to think otherwise. Lance was stupid.

Keith took his usual fighting stance almost immediately, fists raised and Marmoran blade glistening in front of his face. There was a deep frown between his eyebrows, lips pursed into a thin line. He looked positively dangerous. Lance struggled to swallow his own saliva, his mouth suddenly dry.

White light — searing and blinding — illuminated Lance’s face as he raised his bayard. It burned bright and rapidly between their bodies. And, in the blink of an eye, the bayard resting between his fingers had been replaced by a long, Altean sword. The same sword that had appeared to him during one of his training drills, once before. Lance couldn’t remember if the blade had made another appearance until that moment. He stared at it in utter shock. Across from him, Keith mirrored his expression, taken aback by the sudden apparition.

“Since when do you have a sword?” Keith asked, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

“It’s been a while.” Lance answered, holding the blade tighter, trying to get used to the strange weight in his hand. “It appeared for the first time shortly after you left for the Blade of Marmora. I was training one day and my bayard just… It just turned into a sword.”

“Oh.”

Lance chose to ignore the hurtful look that had crossed Keith’s features. A trick of the light, probably. It was gone just as suddenly as it had appeared. But Lance was left with an uneasy feeling at the base of his stomach. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like any of this.

“Does anyone else know about it?” Keith asked.

Lance shook his head.

“Just you.” he said, lifting his eyes to meet Keith’s gaze. “Well, you and Allura.”

Keith’s frown deepened, indigo eyes turning cold and distant. His entire body seemed tense and stiff all of a sudden. Lance didn’t think he could have imagined such an abrupt change. He wondered what could have crossed Keith’s mind in order to achieve such a drastic transformation.

“Right. Of course, Allura knows.” Keith murmured under his breath.

Lance frowned in confusion.

“What do you mean, Keith?”

“Nothing. It just makes sense for her to know since you’re… Together.”

And something about the way Keith had said it, how the word seemed to roll out of his mouth in waves of bitterness, forced Lance to open his mouth to protest. But Keith was faster. Always one step ahead, always leaving Lance lagging behind.

“It doesn’t matter.” Keith’s voice was sharp, a blade cutting through Lance as if he was made of paper. “I want to see what you’re capable of with that new sword of yours.”

Lance knew Keith and Allura didn’t get along that well, they had barely exchanged a dozen words over the past few years. And then their already frail relationship had taken a turn for the worse when Keith uncovered the truth about his Galra heritage. Those had been somber days at the Castle of Lions. They grew distant, further apart, never meeting eye to eye on anything. Unable to reach middle ground, Keith and Allura were like magnets from equal poles, doomed to an endless cycle of pushing and pulling one another without ever actually touching.

But Lance thought things were better now. He thought they had moved on from their political differences, to put it mildly. After all, the future of the entire universe rested on their shoulders. They needed to stay together, all of them. For the greater good. Was he wrong about that too? What wasn’t he seeing? What could he possibly be missing?

Lance was too enraptured by the recent thoughts floating on the surface of his mind to notice the sudden shift between their dynamic. The atmosphere was heavier, negatively charged, like the gathering of clouds before the break of a storm. Lance could smell electricity in the air.

Reluctantly, Lance looked back at Keith. Half of his face was covered in shadows. The violet, inhuman glow of his eyes was dampened behind the dark strands of hair falling over his forehead. It was a terrifying vision, a ghost that would haunt Lance in the nights to come. Shivers ran down his spine in quick succession.

“Keith…”

Lance opened his mouth to ask… What exactly? Why Keith had that murderous glint in his eye? Why Lance seemed to have lost the sense of safety he usually felt whenever he stood close to Keith? He could ask a number of questions and yet he stayed silent. Whatever sounds could have left his lips in that moment were smothered by Keith’s loud, animalistic growl as he charged forward.

He had his sword raised high, ready to cut through flesh, hungry for blood. White teeth glistened under the artificial glow of the lights as his lips stretched into a wolfish grin made for battle. Lance was petrified, caught under the spell of Medusa, unable to move as their blades clashed together. Thunder rumbled distantly in Lance’s ears, lightning flashed behind closed eyelids.

Lance stumbled backwards, burying the heels of his feet hard onto solid ground to maintain some of his balance. The impact had been strong enough to rattle his bones, teeth clenching tightly together. A smirk clawed its way through Keith’s lips. Lance felt the air leave his lungs, torn between admiration and anger for being caught off guard by Keith’s ruthless attack.

“What? Am I going too hard on you, sharpshooter?”

Lance returned Keith with a smirk of his own.

“Bring it on, samurai.” he said, voice laced with mischief. “I don’t break that easily. I can take it.”

“Did Allura ever teach you how to use an Altean sword?”

Lance pressed his bayard harder against Keith’s Marmoran blade, pushing closer, closer, closer. Until they were close enough for the tip of their noses to graze gingerly against one another. Lance inhaled Keith’s earthy scent, swam in his warm breath. He wondered how he was still standing when he could no longer feel his legs, knees nearly giving out from the close proximity.

“No.” Lance hissed between his teeth. “Did she ever teach _you_?”

_Mature, Lance, very mature._ He chided himself mentally.

Keith’s smile widened and a single dimple carved the left side of his face.

Lance fought the urge to smile back. Keith was _adorable._ He never thought he would use such a soft word to describe Keith, one of the hardest people he had ever met, but he could no longer deny what was so clear before his eyes. How was any of it fair? How could someone be so effortlessly beautiful? It was truly unnerving.

“She didn’t have to. Apparently, I’m what they call a _natural._ ” Keith said, a hint of smugness hiding under his words.

Lance rolled his eyes, dramatically. Like everything else he did.

“God, you’re so full of yourself. I can’t wait to kick your half galran ass and erase that stupid grin off of your face.” Lance said. Keith swallowed down a chuckle. “And then the only thing people will be calling you is _loser._ ”

“Do you honestly believe you can beat me, Lance?” Keith asked, lifting a single eyebrow in defiance.

“Is that a challenge, mullet man?”

Keith huffed, clearly annoyed.

“Don’t call me that.” he growled back, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “And yes, I’m challenging you to a fight. See which paladin is best with a sword.”

Lance let out a short laugh.

“Oh, it is _on_!”

Lance could never turn down a challenge. He was physically unable to, something built in his genetic code that prevented him from ignoring the prospective of proving himself. It was what had propelled him into that one-sided rivalry with Keith. It elicited a strong feeling deep inside him, some buried instinct he wasn’t even aware he possessed until that moment. His blood seemed to boil inside his veins, warming him from the inside out. He was on fire. Burning up. Delirious. _Alive._

Lance launched himself forward, colliding their blades with another loud clash. Keith barely even flinched. He smiled wickedly, showing a row of white teeth and a pair of sharp canines. Lance let out a low groan, bearing his teeth as he pressed in harder against Keith. _Nothing._ He didn’t crumble, he didn’t break, he didn’t so much as blink to Lance’s failed attempts.

“Is this all you’ve got?” Keith asked, teasingly. “C’mon, Lance. Show me what you are really made of.”

“Are you sure, Keith? I don’t know if you’re ready to see my full potential.”

Keith lifted an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

“What are you afraid of, Lance?”

Lance let out a suffocated gasp, narrowing his eyes back at Keith.

“I’m not afraid of anything.” he grunted.

“Prove it.”

And then Keith moved, majestic and powerful. His limbs were fast and fluid, handling the large sword almost as if it was an extension of his arm, something he had been born with rather than trusted upon. It was hypnotic. Breathtaking. The last thought Lance remembered having before forcing his own body to deflect one of Keith's vicious blows was that he had never seen anything quite so beautiful before in his life.

* * *

Everything hurt.

Lance’s breathing was shallow, coming out raggedly. He was panting hard as he assessed the damage Keith had done to his body. He had been at the receiving end of countless punches and kicks for the past couple of hours, deflecting them all with some difficulty. The sound of their blades clashing together still resonated in his ears, loud and hard.

Lance let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes as the back of his head came into contact with the cold, hard floor of the training room. Fluorescent lights shone bright above him, red filled his vision behind closed eyelids. The loud thud of the Altean sword slipping from his trembling fingers and connecting with the ground echoed through the four metallic walls. Lance felt his shoulders screaming in pain and his arm fell limp from prolonged exertion. He could feel the strength slowly leaving his limbs as they grew numb. The fire that once burned inside his veins extinguished, evaporated through his pores.

_God,_ he was exhausted.

A soft chuckle resonated from somewhere above him and Lance tentatively opened his eyes. He felt his heart plummeting lower, lower, lower until it collapsed against the bottom of his ribcage as he stared deep into midnight blue eyes. He was close enough to discern the violet specks littered around bottomless pupils. So unique, so undeniably _Keith’s._

“What are you doing laying there?” he asked, a smile hanging from his lips.

Lance let out another tired sigh, breathing hard.

“What does it look like I’m doing? _Dios mío,_ I think you broke me, Keith.” Lance mumbled. Keith tumbled his head to the side, regarding Lance with curiosity. “Aren’t you tired yet? What are you, a cyborg or something?”

Above him, Keith laughed. He had never heard Keith laugh like that. Like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he was wild and free. Like he was just an ordinary teenager instead of the defender of the universe. Lance thought that if he could have recorded the sound and gotten to listen to it every night before falling asleep, he would have.

“Not a cyborg. Just half galran.” Keith said with a shrug. “That probably makes me more resilient than the average human, I guess.”

“Probably.” Lance considered for a moment before narrowing his eyes at Keith. “Wait, does that mean you’ve been cheating on training drills this entire time? You have, haven’t you? Oh, my God, Keith! You’re such a _cheater._ ”

Keith frowned in response to Lance’s outburst.

“ _What_? That is not cheating, Lance. I was literally born this way.” he replied defensively. Lance shook his head, resigned.

“So what? You have some super resistant alien stamina running in your blood and it gives you unfair advantage over the rest of us. Therefore, you’re cheating.”

Keith let out a loud groan, waving his arms in the air in frustration. Lance bit down a chuckle, refraining his lips from turning into a smile. _Adorable,_ he thought as Keith continued to widely gesticulate above him.

“That makes no sense, whatsoever _.”_

“Whatever, cheater. You’re just angry because I found out about your dirty little secret.”

“You’re insufferable, Lance.” Keith huffed. “And stop calling me a cheater.”

Lance watched as Keith came closer, extinguishing the distance that separated them and sitting next to him on the floor. His Marmoran blade laid completely forgotten at his side, turning back into a dagger. From the corner of his eyes, Lance saw the moment Keith put his hands behind his body, fingers splayed out to support his weight, legs stretched in front of his body and head thrown back.

Lance gulped at the sight of Keith’s long neck exposed, tousled hair falling messily over sharp shoulder blades. He swallowed thickly. When he spoke again, he thought his voice sounded different, as if it belonged to someone else.

“Is that why you like to train with Acxa? Because she’s half Galra too?” he blurted out, regretting his words almost immediately.

_What was he thinking?_

There was a pause, the air surrounding them appeared to have been suspended. Lance’s erratic heartbeat was the only audible sound in the midst of the silence that had fallen between the two of them. It lasted long enough for Lance to think he wouldn’t get an answer. But then Keith spoke, the sound so sudden and abrupt it caused a small shudder to ripple through Lance’s spine, from his neck to the low of his back.

“It has nothing to do with her being Galra.”

Lance stood to a sitting position, resting his elbows on his knees. He focused those blue eyes on Keith, reading all the quiet emotions that crossed his face.

“Then what is it?” Lance asked.

Keith bit down his bottom lip, staring intently at the floor. There was a small crease forming between his eyebrows. Lance felt the urge to smooth the lines of Keith’s face with his fingers.

“It’s hard to explain…” Keith trailed off.

“Try me.”

Keith took one furtive glance at Lance, who regarded him back with an encouraging smile, urging him to continue. Keith sighed, running a hand through his hair and closing his eyes briefly.

“It’s just… Nice, I guess. To have someone else here who understands me.” he spoke quietly. His voice was no more than a whisper, almost as if he was sharing a secret.

Lance felt a jab at his guts, deep and sharp and _God, why did it have to hurt this much?_ Lance swallowed hard.

“What do you mean?” he asked almost sheepishly, unable to look back at Keith.

“After spending so much time with the Blades, training with them, learning the Galra way… It was hard coming back. To Voltron, I mean.” Keith’s voice reached Lance’s ears and it felt like he was being stabbed by miniscule needles, drawing blood from every single pore in his body. “I felt like I had to readapt, learn everything all over again. Sometimes I feel like I’m still learning. How to be a leader, how to be a paladin, how to be human.”

Keith paused, letting out a strangled breath. Lance closed his hands into fists, biting the inside of his cheeks to prevent him from saying something stupid. After all, that was his specialty. When Keith spoke again, he sounded slightly more stable, some of his vulnerability already safely hidden behind a thick wall of concrete.

“At the Blade things were easier. I didn’t have to try so hard all of the time, you know?”

Lance dared to send a gaze in his direction and the sight was enough to make him choke on his own breath. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Keith look so small, so fragile. He was just as breakable as everyone else. Just as breakable as _him._

“Being with Acxa reminds me a bit of what I had there, with the other Blades. It’s easy, simple. We’re able to understand each other. When I’m with her I don’t have to pretend.”

Lance could feel the lines and planes of his face turning into something harder. He was frowning, angry and dazed after hearing Keith’s last words. Some of the flames that licked his veins only moments ago now seeped into his voice as he spoke.

“Are you pretending now?”

Keith turned his gaze back at him, lips parted and eyes open wide. He looked terribly young and lost.

“W — What?”

“You said you didn’t have to pretend with her. I want to know if you’re pretending now, with me.” Lance echoed his previous words, unable to keep the anger from his voice. He avoided pronouncing Acxa’s name on purpose. Part of him thought that if he did his tongue might actually get burned. “Answer me, Keith. I need to know.”

“Why? Why do you need to know?”

“Just answer the question.”

The bite to his voice was gone, having been replaced by a distinct tiredness that was born from the darkest parts of him. God, he was _exhausted._ And it had nothing to do with the fact that he had spent the past two and a half hours training.

Keith sighed.

“No. I don’t think I am, Lance.” he said. Lance waited for Keith to continue, listening quietly. “You may not bring out the best in me, but you bring out the most.”

Lance struggled to swallow down Keith’s words, unable to tell the true meaning behind them. It was hard to understand Keith. And he kept making it harder and harder.

“You don’t sound so sure.” Lance said.

“What do you want me to say, Lance?” Keith retorted with an audible sigh. He seemed just as tired as Lance felt.

“I don’t know, Keith. How about the truth?” Lance practically spat out the words, hands still closed into fists in an attempt to maintain any semblance of control. Keith flickered his gaze away from Lance’s eyes, avoiding direct confrontation. “You can’t even look at me, can you? Just tell me.”

Across from him, Keith’s eyes shone with a whirlwind of stars, burning bright with unabashed fury. Lance could feel his temper rising, rising, rising. The clock was ticking and it was only a matter of time before he exploded. Lance waited for the inevitability of a disaster.

“What _truth_? What are you talking about, Lance?”

“You left, Keith!” Lance blurted out, voice rising a few octaves. Keith blanched, all color drained from his face.

_There it was,_ Lance thought bitterly. All the feelings he had been keeping locked down in the confines of his chest were now suddenly free, spilling from the seams like black ink, tainting the air around them with a dense blackness. Keith watched, completely frozen in place, as Lance’s pain began to leak from his mouth. And then, without realizing, Lance launched his body forward. Hands made of slim, bony fingers connected with Keith’s hard chest, applying enough pressure to push him flat onto his back. He fell with a soft gasp.

Lying on the floor, Keith stared back at Lance with wide, confused eyes. Unblinking. Lance found himself climbing on top of Keith’s body, each of his legs caging him on each side of his body, straddling him into submission. Lance’s face was hovering mere inches away from Keith’s. He could see his own reflection on those dark irises, running on fumes.

“You left us, Keith. You left _me._ And you didn’t look back.” Lance said, eyes blazing, voice trembling. “You didn’t even bother to tell us _why._ You were just… Gone.”

“Lance, that’s not —”

“What? That’s not what happened? Give me a break, okay? I was right there when you decided to leave us, Keith.”

_When you broke my heart,_ Lance thought somberly.

Keith didn’t falter under the crushing weight of Lance’s cold, blue eyes. He stared back at him defiantly. Something dark and primitive crossed his features, crawling under the surface of pale, scarred skin. And then Keith was using the weight of his own body to propel himself forward. He held Lance’s wrists in a tight grip, turning them over in one swift movement.

The action was so sudden Lance barely had any time to react before he found himself underneath a furious looking Keith, hovering above him like a dark cloud. Lance had his wrists pinned down at the sides of his head, restrained by Keith’s impressive hold; born, no doubt, from endless hours of intensive training. But Lance wondered if Keith’s Galra genes could also affect his strength, as well as his agility. Lately, Lance had been wondering quite a lot about Keith.

“Shut up, Lance! Just… Shut up.” Keith groaned, breathing heavily. His face had flushed considerably. White, porcelain skin now burned a furious shade of red. “You shouldn’t talk about things you know nothing about.”

Lance’s lips trembled and he was unable to contain himself.

He laughed, loud and rich and humorless. But the sound appeared to have been distorted. Turned upside down, breaking from the inside out. Like a record being played backwards. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Would you, please, enlighten me, then? Tell me the reason why you left, Keith.” Lance said once the laughter subsided, the hysteria held under poorly maintained control. “ _Why_? Why did you leave us? Was it because we weren’t good enough? Not strong enough? Was that it?”

_Was it because I wasn’t good enough? Because I wasn’t strong enough?_

Something that strongly resembled a growl tore its way from the back of Keith’s throat. Lance felt the hairs on his arms stand on end, fear coiled tightly at the base of his stomach.

“ _No,_ you idiot.” Keith hissed through clenched teeth.

Lance had a glimpse of Keith’s sharp canines as he spoke. He wondered if they would be able to break skin and draw blood if Keith decided to bite him. A wave of warmth washed him away, spreading through his torso and crawling further north. It climbed his long neck and sharp jaw, until finding solace on his cheekbones.

_What was happening to him?_

“Why did you leave, Keith?” Lance whispered, voice impossibly small.

If Keith didn’t have his hands pressed against the cold, hard floor Lance was certain that he would be touching the scar that ran across half of his face. He could feel the familiar tingling sensation at the tip of his fingers. The fear that had pooled at the base of his stomach turned into something else. Something more. Something dark and ugly and dangerous.

“I left because of you!” Keith’s voice came out in short pants of breath, chest heaving raggedly. “I left the team because of you, Lance. Are you happy now?”

Lance blinked in confusion.

“Me?”

“Yes, _you._ ”

“I don’t understand…” Lance inhaled deeply, brows furrowing together. Keith’s dark gaze bored into his. “What could I have possibly done to make you want to leave? Did you really hate me that much?”

Keith shook his head.

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

Lance furrowed his brows deeper. He opened his mouth to protest when the weight of Keith’s strong grip disappeared from his wrists. Instead, he watched as Keith slowly pulled away from him; the fire dying in his eyes. All heat and warmth gone, replaced by a wall of ice, cold and impenetrable. Keith sounded utterly defeated when he spoke again. It sliced Lance’s chest wide open, revealing his bleeding heart.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Lance.” he said, sounding tired, like all the fight had left his bones. When their eyes met again, Lance ached for him. “You shouldn’t think so low of yourself all of the time.”

“I — I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lance stuttered, blushing.

“Yeah, you do.” Keith cut him short, voice devoid of emotion. “You’re constantly putting yourself down, like every bad thing that’s ever happened to the team was your fault. Well, let me tell you something, it’s _not._ ”

Lance stared back at Keith in awe, unable to respond thanks to the imaginary knife he had lodged deep inside his throat. He could barely breathe.

“You’re…” Keith swallowed hard, looking at Lance with tormented eyes. Lance thought he saw stars falling from them, their silvery glow stark against a dark night sky. “You’re amazing, Lance. You’re the heart of Voltron. The team wouldn’t survive without you.”

“Keith, what are you —”

“I trusted you to keep the team together and you did.” Keith said. A sad smile crossed his lips, but it was gone in an instant. “I knew you would.”

Lance took a deep breath, reeling from everything Keith had poured down on him; every kind word, every longing gaze. He felt too much and nothing at all, fire burned in his veins and ice grew at his fingertips. Countless thoughts crossed his mind, a blur of sound and color. White noise buzzed in his ears, engulfing the constant pump of blood and the voices in his head.

“Y — You still haven’t answered my question.”

Lance said quietly, so low he knew the only reason Keith had heard him was because they were standing close to one another. Too close. So close Lance felt every breath that left Keith’s mouth like a knife to the heart, a physical ache that threatened to split his soul in half.

“I left to protect you, Lance.” Keith said. Lance thought he couldn’t hurt anymore than he already did, but he was wrong. “I would never be able to forgive myself if I allowed you to think you were anything less than important to the team. You were never expendable, Lance. But I was. The team needed you.”

_Not as much as_ I _needed you,_ Lance thought bitterly. _I needed you and you left me._

Keith took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air before continuing. His voice reverberated through the walls, lingering in the air like smoke.

“I didn’t leave because the mission was too important or out of some sense of duty towards the Blade of Marmora.” Keith said. “I left because I care about your feelings more than mine. I left to protect the person I care about the most. _You._ ”

Keith stood up and Lance immediately missed the familiar weight pressing down on his thighs, the strong grip surrounding his wrists, the warm breath fanning through his parted lips, melting him from the inside. Lance’s eyes followed Keith as he crossed the room in long strides, picking up his discarded clothes before making his way towards the automatic doors. Lance remained sprawled at the floor, heart beating fast and blood pumping loud in his ears.

He watched. He watched as Keith walked away. He watched as he stopped before the doors, hesitating. He watched the closed fists and the way his body turned, ever so slowly. He watched how Keith’s thick eyebrows furrowed together, how his lips pursed and his jaw clenched. How his eyes seemed to look everywhere but still refused to look at him.

Lance watched as Keith struggled with his next words. He watched, watched, watched. Like he had been doing his entire life. It hardly mattered where he was, his eyes would always — undoubtedly — find their way to Keith.

Lance watched and he wished that Keith would watch him back. Only once, only for a moment. But he never did.

“ _There._ I said it. Now you know.” Keith spoke softly. “Sorry if I made you think as if you had done something wrong. It was never my intention.”

The silence lasted for a heartbeat. And then the automatic doors burst open with a whooshing sound, destroying the careful balance built between the two of them. Keith waited. His fingers twitched, his body stiffened, his eyes wandered. Was he waiting for Lance to say something? But, how _could_ he? How could he say anything when his voice had been stolen from him, when every coherent thought had escaped his brain, when he couldn’t think beyond the sound of Keith’s voice burning into his ears.

“And I don’t hate you, Lance. I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

Keith spoke one last time before going through the doors.

And, devoid of voice and overflowing with emotion, Lance watched — once again — Keith leave him.

He felt cursed. Beyond salvation.

Lance heard the sound of the automatic doors closing and he allowed the exhaustion to take over, at last. He closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath before drowning in a sea made of his own tears.

* * *

 

By the time Lance’s sobs died down, Keith’s voice had faded from his memory. Reluctantly, he stood up, dragging his feet to the closet where he had tucked his clothes. Careful with his aching limbs and sore muscles Lance changed back to his Garrison uniform and left the training room.

He wandered aimlessly along the corridors. But there was only so far he could go to avoid the dangerous thoughts roaming around his head, only so many walls he could build in order to protect himself. It was a tiresome act and it drained Lance of what was left of his energy. It pained him to live like this, a life based on lies and half-truths. He had told so many by now he could barely remember what was real and what wasn’t.

Deep down he knew that running away and avoiding the truth was only a temporary solution. It couldn’t last. He was bound to failure, to crumble under the weight of the walls he had built around himself. He couldn’t stop breaking, it seemed.

_It was better that way,_ he tried to reassure himself. Better to pretend, to lie and to trick them all into believing he was happy. It was a balancing act, but anything was better than the alternative. Anything was better than watching Keith leave again.

Lance’s lips broke into a small, watery smile, filled with sorrow. He was pathetic, wasn’t he? Pidge would probably punch him if they could hear his thoughts. He would probably deserve it.

He could still remember how that everlasting ache had first begun.

It had been a distant longing at first, a fleeting thought that crossed his mind every night before he went to bed. He didn’t pay any attention to that. But he should have. _God, he should have._ He would see Keith at the cafeteria or they would cross paths at the corridors in between classes and exchange quick, meaningless glances. But it would be enough to burn a permanent image in his brain. Slowly, the longing evolved to a dull ache in his bones. And then it became a fire in his loins, burning him alive until there was nothing left of him but ashes. Until he could do nothing but stare in absolute awe as he placed his heart in someone else’s hands, rough and calloused under the dark fabric of fingerless gloves.

Lance wanted his heart back. But he didn’t know how to get it. He didn’t know how to stop hurting. He needed someone to tell him how. But he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t.

_I left to protect you._

Keith had sounded like damnation. Words could be violent, sometimes sharper than blades, able to break skin and leave a mess of splintered bones and bleeding organs in its wake. Lance felt like he was slowly dying from the wounds he had sustained.

He was bleeding out.

_I don’t hate you, Lance._

Falling apart.

_I don’t think I could ever hate you._

Undone and unmade. Ripping at the edges. He didn’t think he would ever be whole again.

Something warm and familiar reverberated through the thick fog surrounding his thoughts. Lance recognized that feeling, the distant rumble constantly at the back of his mind.

_Red._

She was reaching out to him, urging him to come closer. Lance ran to the hangar where they had been keeping the lions ever since they had arrived on Earth. He went inside and blew out a relieved sigh. There was no one else in there. No Pidge, no Hunk, no Allura. And most importantly, no Keith.

The Red Lion was an imposing figure. Seating impossibly still, towering over Lance. He threw his head back to get a better look at the sentient machine, catching a glimpse of those eerie yellow eyes. He could still remember in vivid detail the day Red had accepted him as her paladin. He was afraid of not being enough. Afraid of replacing Blue. Afraid of not being able to follow in Keith’s footsteps. He was terrified. But then she opened up to him and filled him with warmth. Red was so incredibly warm. Lance could feel himself melting into her, slowly, steadily.

“Hey, girl. How are you doing? Better than me, I hope.” Lance said out loud, seating down on the floor beside her and resting his head against the giant metallic paw. “You could feel my distress from all the way up here, couldn’t you? Are my thoughts really that loud?”

There was no verbal response. There never would be. But Lance could feel the alien presence in his thoughts, long claws scratching the back of his skull, trying to break the surface. It was an altogether comforting and slightly disturbing experience. With a sigh, Lance let himself be carried away, transported through a fiery river as he drifted further and further away from reality.

“He said he left to protect me.” Lance caught himself saying to no one in particular. His voice was carried away across the empty hangar. “But knowing that doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change all the sleepless nights. It doesn’t erase all the days I spent wondering where he was, if he was alive or…”

Lance sighed, closing his eyes.

“He doesn’t hate me, Red.” he whispered. A pause. Inhale and exhale. “I wish he did. It would make everything easier.”

A distant growl resonated in his ears, angry and restless. Lance didn’t know what he wanted more, to laugh or to cry.

“I know, I know.” he said placatingly, running a hand over cold metal. “I just… I missed him, you know? I really _fucking_ missed him. Apparently, all I can do is miss him. All of the damn time.”

Lance heard Red’s soft purrs before he felt his conscious slipping away, falling into oblivion. He dived into an indigo ocean, dark waves lulling him to the first dreamless sleep he’s had in forever.

He was plummeting, free falling into the abyss.

Under, under, under.

Until he was enveloped in a cocoon of shadows.


	2. part ii - you broke my body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn’t think you would care if I left.” he added in a small, unfamiliar voice.  
> Lance felt a sting, something sharp piercing his chest as the sound found its way to his ears. Whatever it was, it burned.  
> “Keith, that’s not… Of course I care!” Lance said, trying and ultimately failing to hide the hurt in his voice. “Why would you think that?”  
> “Can you blame me, Lance? All this time we’ve been paladins I thought you hated me.” Keith said, his voice cracking. “It was you who came up with that stupid rivalry, it was you who refused to be in the same room alone with me, it was you who pretended our bonding moment never happened. It was all you!”  
> Lance shook his head vehemently.  
> “Keith, no.” Lance hastened to say. “God, that’s not… That’s not how I feel about you.”  
> “Then how do you feel, Lance?” Keith asked, glaring back at Lance. “Why are you avoiding me? What did I ever do to make you so angry with me? Was it something I said? I — I’m lost in the dark here. Just tell me the truth. No more lies, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I'm honestly blown away by the positive response this story got and honestly I'm so so happy! Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments. You guys are the absolute BEST!!! So, here's another update :) I plan on updating this story on a weekly basis, hopefully I'll be able to follow my schedule (let's pray fkjdk)  
> I hope you guys like this chapter as well. Happy reading! x
> 
> PS. You can always find me in tumblr as @vlctorvale (my main blog) or @niccoarte (my art blog...there are some voltron art there as well if you're interested)

**part ii**

**you broke my body**

* * *

 

_Next time I hold you close_ __  
I'm not letting go  
I need an antidote  
So you can make me whole again

* * *

 

Lance had woken up with an insistent buzzing sound, vibrating waves cursing through his body. He dived a hand inside his pocket, grabbing the communicator each paladin carried with themselves at all times. He tapped the glowing screen once and Allura’s voice came through the speakers.

_“Lance, where are you?”_

She sounded hectic, her breathing coming out raggedly. Lance rubbed his eyes, getting rid of the last remnants of sleep weighting down his eyelids. When he opened his mouth to grant Allura with a proper answer he barely recognized his own voice, hoarse from lack of use.

“What is it? Did something happen? Are we being attacked again?” he asked, bringing the communicator closer to his face.

There was a short pause.

Lance heard someone sighing on the other end of the line. A heartbeat later, Allura’s voice filled his ears once again. She sounded calmer, less frantic. Lance’s vice grip on the device lessened considerably and his knuckles returned to their natural color, the white slowly fading.

_“No. Earth is safe, but we need you at the control room. Something came up.”_

Lance sighed.

“Okay. I’m on my way.”

_“I’ll be waiting.”_

Lance knew the moment Allura had disconnected because the line went strangely silent, nothing but static. He returned the communicator to his pocket and stood up with some difficulty, cleaning the dust from his pants. From the looks of it, he had fallen asleep at the hangar, with his body nested beside one of Red’s paws. And now he had a stiff neck and sore limbs. Lance grumbled under his breath, pressing his hand at the nape of his neck in a feeble attempt to smother that dull ache ingrained in his every muscle.

“God, I’m crushed. Remind me to never sleep on the floor again, Red.” Lance murmured out loud, stretching his back and humming contently with each soft crack the movement elicited from his vertebrae.

He crossed the long, never ending corridors while stifling yawns and desperately trying to soothe the rebel strands of hair sticking out of his head in a thousand different directions. He hoped nobody saw him like that, with spots of drool now drying out on his Garrison uniform and a bird’s nest replacing his usual flawless hair.

As he approached the section where the dorms were located, Lance couldn’t help but think longingly about the shower he would take as soon as he stepped inside his room. After turning a corner, passing by similar doors on each side, he finally found the one that led to his room. Lance pressed the palm of his hand on the lock by the door and, a second later, it slid open with a whooshing sound.

He stepped inside without sparing a second glance to the empty corridor, too tired and in too much pain. Lance exhaled sharply as soon as the door closed behind him, colliding his back against the cold surface. Closing his eyes, he thought of Keith’s last words to him. He had sounded painfully honest and it almost took the breath out of Lance’s open mouth.

_I left to protect you._

The words resonated deep inside him, rattling his bones, ripping his heart to shreds. Lance had tried so hard to smother those feelings. He had built a wall around his heart, tall and impenetrable and surrounded with the sharpest of thorns. The mask he had carefully sewn for himself was loose at the seams, with frail edges. Lance hit the back of his head against the door, hard. Once, twice. He bit his bottom lip until he tasted blood, the metallic tinge hitting his nostrils and making him feel nauseous.

“Stop it, Lance.” he reprimanded himself with a quiet groan, opening his eyes to the immaculate white of the ceiling. “Stop thinking about Keith. Just _stop._ You never stood a chance with him. Besides, you have Allura now.”

Lance sighed heavily, running a hand through his short hair. He pulled at the roots, applying more force than necessary. Perhaps the pain would bring him back to the present. Perhaps then he wouldn’t hear Keith’s voice echoing with each heartbeat, running along his bloodstream.

“I’m a mess.” Lance mumbled, detaching himself from the door and making his way to the adjacent bathroom.

He quickly stripped himself off of his Garrison uniform, letting the pieces of clothing pool around his feet before stepping away and into the shower. A strong current of water fell over his head and shoulders, warm and heavy. It cleansed the filth from his thoughts, a fast torrent that carried away the memory of dark, soulful eyes. Lance ran his hands through his hair, down his face and neck. He had his eyes closed and droplets of water fell on the tip of his tongue through parted lips. He drowned in the feeling.

Lance could no longer remember how long he had stayed under the water, being washed away, purified. And by the time he turned the pressure off, the skin of his fingers was wrinkled and prune; the water, once warm, had turned cold. His reflection stared back at him from the mirror above the sink, electric blue eyes strangely hollow. He looked tired, the skin underneath his eyes slightly darker than the rest of his face. But he was unable to find motivation to follow through with the familiar routine that consisted of applying countless lotions and creams thoroughly across every exposed inch of skin, massaging the lines and planes of his body with gentle fingers.

Not this time.

Lance left the bathroom with nothing but a towel hanging from his hips, water still dripping from his naked torso. His movements were nearly mechanical as he worked through the layers of clothing, fastening the belt on his pants and buttoning the blue uniform the Garrison had made especially for him. He tried to comb the wet strands of his hair, aiming to give them some shape or form, and then he spared a final glance at the mirror, seeing his image reflected once more.

Lance could barely recognize himself. If felt as if he was staring back at a stranger, as if the pieces that made him who he was had been scrambled and now everything was out of place. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to erase that image from his brain. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. Reluctantly, he turned around. His feet carried him to the door, sliding open with a soft hissing sound.

As soon as he stepped outside, on the empty corridor, the walls surrounding him were rebuilt, brick by brick. Lance knew that if he were to see his face reflected back at him now, he would see no traces of the Lance he had seen in the bathroom mirror, only moments ago. He was carefully hidden in the highest tower of the imaginary castle he had conjured up inside his head. Safe and unreachable. The thought was enough to bring a lightness to his every step as he made his way to the control room.

* * *

 

Everybody was already waiting for him at the main station of the Garrison when Lance arrived. Shiro appeared to be in deep conversation with Allura near the control panel, both of them with their arms crossed in front of their bodies, solemn expressions on their faces. Next to them, Pidge and Hunk talked animatedly, hands flying in the air and excited grins plastered on their mouths. They paused for a brief moment, turning their heads to the side when the automatic doors opened to reveal Lance.

Lance returned Hunk’s smile and Pidge’s small wave, but his eyes were already searching for someone else. He stopped mid step when he found who he was looking for, all air pushed out of his lungs. Lance’s gaze fell on Keith and he swallowed thickly, images of their last encounter crossing his head in quick flashes and bursts of color.

Standing alone, on the other side of the room, Keith was a somber figure. The scowl on his face was imposing, the darkness of his eyes threatening to swallow whatever dared to cross his path, like a black hole. And when those bottomless eyes met his, Lance blanched. He felt like disappearing, like he was being unmade by the sheer intensity of that gaze.

Time seemed to slow to a stop, the world no longer turned on its axis. Lance was frozen in place, struggling to hold the wall together as it started to crumble, hit by sudden tremors. He opened his mouth to say something, a salute or a confession, he wasn’t sure. But he was interrupted before he could get a word through his lips.

Allura had touched his arm and Lance felt his body immediately relax under the safe pressure of her fingers, soft and warm, like a summer breeze. Realization slowly dawned on him that she was no longer standing next to Shiro, having reappeared at his side. He was so enthralled by Keith’s hypnotic gaze he hadn’t noticed Allura approaching him.

“What took you so long? I was starting to grow worried.” Allura said.

When Lance looked back at her, there was a small crease between her thin, white eyebrows. He touched the lines there with the pad of his thumb, gently smoothing them away. Allura sighed.

“Sorry.” Lance said in a small voice, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden. “I didn’t mean to concern any of you. I just lost track of time.”

“I went looking for you in your room earlier, but you weren’t there.” Allura said, leaning in Lance’s touch. Lance swallowed thickly. There was no trace of accusation in her tone, but still he couldn’t help but feel that familiar sense of guilt settling at the base of his stomach. _What was he feeling guilty for?_

“Y — You did?” Lance stammered nervously.

Allura nodded.

“When I couldn’t find you, I decided to reach you on your comm.” she said, pausing briefly before continuing. “Where have you been, Lance? Did you not sleep in your room last night?”

“I was…” Lance hesitated, clearing his throat. His mouth felt dry, like the Sonoran Desert. When he spoke again his voice sounded clearer, almost stable. “I was at the Lion’s hangar, with Red. I think I fell asleep there at some point.”

“Oh.” Allura mumbled. “Is that so? You must have been very tired from your training session with Hunk.”

For a moment, Lance didn’t have the faintest idea of what Allura was talking about. He had barely exchanged ten words with Hunk the day before, much less had a training session. But then it hit him. How suffocated he had felt, how he had longed for an excuse to leave, to go and find some room to breathe. He had lied. And there he was again, sharing half truths and spreading white lies.

“Yeah, I guess I was more tired than I thought.” he said, scratching the back of his head with trembling fingers and giving Allura a feeble attempt at a smile.

Allura narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. Instead, she applied the smallest of pressures on his hand, threading their fingers together. Lance looked down at their intertwined hands, a heavy feeling settling on his chest.

“Take it easy on yourself, Lance. We have barely survived our last battle, it’s time to recover. To grow our strength back.” Allura said softly, smiling reassuringly.

Lance simply nodded, unwilling to feed her with any more lies. She deserved nothing but honesty. She deserved someone better than him. When Allura finally pulled away, Lance mourned the loss of contact, missing the warmth of her hand against his.

“Now, come. I called you in because we need to discuss an important matter. Something came up early this morning.” she said, stepping away.

Lance followed her, but his eyes wandered once again through the room, searching. Always searching. When he spotted the place Keith had been standing only seconds before he was disappointed to find it empty. He wondered when Keith had moved, if he had seen his exchange with Allura, if his eyes had lingered on him for a moment longer before he looked away.

Lance turned his head around when he heard the sound of Keith’s voice, unmistakable even amidst the cacophony of others in the room. He stood next to Shiro, looking small and terribly young in comparison. He had his arms crossed, unintentionally flexed, the sleeves of his uniform clinging to each sharp contour of the muscles that lined his biceps. Lance’s eyes lowered, to where Keith’s hands rested with only parts of his fingers visible, peaking through the holes of his gloves. And, _God, those_ _hands_ … Lance licked his lips absently, his brain painting vivid images of all the things those hands could do to him. Not even the permanent frown between those thick eyebrows was enough to drown the white noise ringing in Lance’s ears or to smother his hammering pulse.

Lance could stare at Keith forever. He would gladly spend the remaining of his days looking at the sharp edges and smooth planes of that face, fingers aching to reach out and touch, lips trembling with a sickening desire to kiss him. Just once. Just long enough to commit his taste to memory.

“Hey, buddy.” Hunk’s voice brought him back from the edge, a helping hand pulling him away from a cliff, scattering the intrusive mental images that clouded his brain. _Stop, stop, stop._ Lance chided himself mentally. “Is everything okay?”

Lance felt the familiar burn on his cheekbones at the prospect of being caught staring longingly at Keith. He quickly turned away, avoiding direct eye contact with Hunk.

“I’m fine.” he lied, his voice barely audible.

Lance swallowed the thick knot lodged in his throat. Hunk eyed him skeptically, one eyebrow raised in puzzlement. He was not easily fooled, knowing all of Lance’s tricks at this point. They had known each other since they were barely old enough to walk and Lance could no longer remember a time when Hunk hadn’t been an intrinsic presence in his life, always by his side. An anchor to reality. A lifeline whenever he felt like drowning in the stormy sea of emotions raging inside him.

“Are you sure? You looked a little out of it for a moment there.” Hunk insisted, his voice laced with concern. He placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder and the solid weight was enough to ground him back to the present. “You know you can tell me anything, right? If there’s something bothering you or, you know, if you just wanna talk. I’m here for you, man.”

Lance gave Hunk a weak smile in response. It was a ghost of what it could be and he knew Hunk noticed his wavering lips and hunched shoulders. _He noticed, he noticed, he noticed._ Lance held his breath captive in his lungs, waiting as Hunk parted his lips, words hanging perilously from the tip of his tongue.

“Lance, is this about —”

He had barely begun saying when Shiro called the paladins to join him near the control panel. Lance allowed the air he was holding to leave his lungs, chest heaving as some of the tension dissipated. But his relief was short lived. Hunk still had his eyes on him, watching carefully. Lance could practically hear the engines turning inside his head, trying to make sense of it all.

“Lance! Hunk! Whatever it is that you’re talking about, it can wait.” Shiro said, loud and firm. “This is important. C’mon, guys.”

Hunk and Lance both nodded at the same time, making their way to the control panel, where the other paladins were already waiting. As they walked, side by side, Hunk lowered his head, mouth hanging close to Lance’s earlobe. He spoke in a low, rushed tone.

“I know you’re hiding something, Lance. This isn’t over yet.”

Lance stifled an irritated groan threatening to escape past his lips and fought the urge to hide his face behind his hands. He wished for the ground to open up beneath his feet and swallow him whole. But his prayers went unanswered.

“So, what was so important for you to call all of us here, Allura?”

Keith was the first to break the silence, voice as sharp as the blade he carried with him at all times. From where Lance stood, he could catch a glimpse of the dagger hanging from Keith’s belt, permanently attached to his hipbone, its Galran markings glowing a faint shade of purple.

“Shiro and I have just received word that the Altean who was found inside the robeast has finally awaken.” Allura said.

Beside her, Shiro gave a small nod. Keith went strangely silent, and Lance could almost feel the tension leaving his body in waves.

“Does this mean we can finally talk to her? Because, I mean, she kind of owes us some answers.” Hunk spoke next, shrugging.

“Does she even _remember_ being inside the robeast?” Pidge ventured, frowning. “She was unconscious for a long time, perhaps long enough to mess with her memories.”

Allura let out a sigh, pursing her lips together as she faced the group of confused paladins standing before her. Lance returned her gaze, unsure.

“It’s hard to tell what kind of information she’ll be able to provide us.” Allura said. “But it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t at least give it a try. I called you all here so we could discuss our course of action. Coran is currently talking to the group of doctors that had her under observation, trying to gather more information, and Romelle is trying to calm her down. Apparently, they know each other back from their time at the colony.”

Lance frowned, taking a step forward.

“Wait,” he said, warily. “What exactly are you suggesting we should do, Allura?”

“I think we need to talk to her, come face to face.” Allura declared, at last. The room went quiet, all sound drowned in a sea of silence. “I know she was found in a compromising position, but she’s _Altean._ Romelle grew up with her at the colony. We had thought our race to be extinct, that the only survivors had been me and Coran, but this changes everything.”

From the corner of his eye, Lance saw Keith shake his head, arms still crossed defensively in front of his body. He could hear the distinct sound of a clock ticking. Keith was an active volcano, a natural disaster of epic proportions. He counted down the seconds, waiting for the inevitability of an explosion.

_Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock._

“It changes _nothing._ ” Keith said categorically, expression hard. Allura looked back at him, her previous certainty slowly wavering under the weight of Keith’s dark, unforgiving eyes. “So what if she’s Altean? She was the one controlling the robeast that attacked us. She nearly got us killed. Or did you forget about that already?”

Shiro took a step forward, raising his hands as he stood between Keith and Allura. He looked at Keith with steely gray eyes. Lance thought that if it had been him under the scrutiny of _that_ look, he would have certainly shattered. But Keith didn’t even flinch, remaining a stoic figure at his side.

“Keith, just listen to Allura.” Shiro said. “We’re only asking for you to listen.”

Keith huffed, visibly unamused. He narrowed his eyes at Shiro and Lance witnessed from afar the silent exchange between the two of them, a deafening silence of unspoken words and sharp gazes. He felt an insistent prickling at the tip of his fingers.

“Alright. I’m listening.” Keith said, but the deep crease still set between his eyebrows betrayed him.

“All I’m saying is that there’s got to be an answer to all of that and she’s the only one who can give it to us.” Allura replied.

“Assuming she’ll tell us the truth. Which she probably won’t.” Keith murmured under his breath. Shiro sent him a sharp, double-edged look.

Allura breathed, a ragged inhale.

“Listen, I know that what I’m about to say will sound like madness,” she began, taking another deep breath before continuing. “But I can _feel_ her.”

“You can _what_?” Lance blurted out, unable to control his own tongue.

Allura sighed.

“I can feel her quintessence. It’s like… Like it’s calling to me. I don’t know how else to explain it.” she said gingerly, but there was a clarity to the words she spoke. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”

Keith snorted loudly, covering his mouth with one of his closed fists, doing a poor job at concealing the smile forming under those calloused fingers. Allura turned towards him, eyes blazing an inferno. Lance swallowed.

_Oh, no._

“You’re right.” Keith admitted with a small nod. Something akin to hope crossed Allura’s features, but the emotion vanished as soon as the next words left Keith’s mouth. “It does sound like madness. Are we really supposed to ignore all she has done because you have a _feeling_?”

Allura glared at Keith, closing her hands into tight, angry fists. She marched forward, stomping her feet against the cold, smooth floor. Keith simply watched, aloof and unmoving, as Allura quickly extinguished the distance separating the two of them. And then, without thinking, driven solely by some primal instinctual feeling, Lance moved. He stepped forward, occupying Shiro’s place as a buffer between the Altean princess and the Galran paladin. He stretched one of his hands out, signaling for Allura to stop. Thankfully, she did.

“Calm down, princess.” Lance said in the softest tone he could muster. Allura looked at him with blue fire still burning bright in her eyes. “We all trust you, but you have to admit this looks too convenient. Of all the alien races out there why choose an Altean to control the robeast? What if she’s being controlled by someone? What if Zarkon’s witch is behind this somehow?”

“Lance is right.” Hunk’s voice came from behind him. “This could be a trick.”

Allura’s expression hardened at the paladins’ hesitance. She glared at them, jaw clenching to prevent her from spitting a bitter retort.

“Haggar is powerful, but she’s not capable of doing something like this.” Allura’s voice came out clipped, on the verge of losing control. “I know what I’m feeling. I would never put any of you in danger if I wasn’t absolute certain of this.”

Lance exchanged a weary look with Hunk and Pidge. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Keith. He was practically vibrating, body thrumming with barely contained energy.

“Allura has a point.” Shiro conceded, placing a hand on Allura’s shoulder to offer equal parts comfort and support. Beside Lance, Keith blinked in confusion. “When have her intuition ever lead us to danger? If anything, she’s saved our lives more times than we can count. If she’s telling us we should talk to the Altean pilot, then I say that’s what we should do.”

Shiro turned to face Keith, that silent understanding filling the space between them once again. Lance thought he was beginning to grow used to seeing them communicate without exchanging any real words. Keith’s squared up shoulders hunched a small fraction, a heavy sigh leaving his lips, unattended. Lance felt something crawl under his skin, an uncomfortable itching right beneath the surface.

“ _Fine._ ” Keith breathed through clenched teeth. “But since I’m assuming you won’t be needing all of us to interrogate —”

“Talk.” Allura corrected him. Keith glared at her.

“To _talk_ to the Altean, I think at least one of us should take another look at the robeast’s remains.”

There was a collective groan from Hunk and Pidge, both of them rolling their eyes at Keith’s back. Their reaction was understandable. Lance knew, after hearing their complaints throughout the entirety of the week, that they had spent the last couple of days looking into the mechanical beast, learning everything there was to know about it, searching for anything that could possibly lead them to whoever had sent that… _Thing_ to attack Earth.

“Again? Keith, c’mon, we already looked through that thing countless times!” Pidge said. “There is nothing there we haven’t already seen and processed.”

Keith snapped his head back, lifting a single eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

“Pidge is right, man. There’s nothing there. Just let it go.” Hunk said, joining Pidge at their pleas.

“You could have missed something. It doesn’t hurt to look twice.” Keith said, shrugging.

“No, we couldn’t. And we _have_ looked twice. In fact, we looked a thousand times.” Pidge insisted, pushing their glasses across the bridge of their nose. “I’m telling you, Keith, there’s nothing in there.”

Keith didn’t falter, his expression unreadable. He stood tall and strong, bordering on statuesque. An immovable object in the presence of an irresistible force. Lance could do nothing but watch in absolute awe.

“I still want to go there and check it out for myself. If it was built with Galra technology then maybe something about my Galra blood could…”

“Yeah, maybe.” Pidge cut Keith short. “Unlikely, though. But be my guest.”

“Very well,” Allura began, her tone softer than before. “It’s settled. Keith will look into the robeast while the rest of us will go talk to the Altean, see if we can get any useful information from her. Now, come paladins, we should be heading to the medical bay. Coran is probably already expecting us.”

Allura was the first to move, heading to the automatic doors, and the others followed suit. Hunk was near the exit already, nodding his head at something Pidge had said, when he paused, turning around. He looked back at Lance, who had remained strangely still, lagging behind. His feet were rooted to the ground, his heart hammering in his ears like a thunderstorm.

“Lance? Are you coming?” Hunk asked.

“I…” Lance started, chewing on his bottom lip and avoiding Hunk’s gaze. “No. I think I’m gonna check out the robeast with Keith.”

Hunk lifted his eyebrows, taken aback by Lance’s choice of willingly staying behind, sharing the same air and space as Keith. Lance could only imagine what Keith’s reaction was to his sudden burst of honesty. _Or stupidity,_ he added inwardly.

“Okay…” Hunk dragged the word longer than necessary, staring back at Lance in utter disbelief. “Good luck, guys. Let us know if you find anything.”

Hunk stepped back soon after, giving Lance one last look before turning around and disappearing through the automatic doors. Lance was hesitant to move, afraid of what he would find swimming in the depths of Keith’s dark orbs. Fortunately, Keith spared him of the painful effort, walking past him with resolve resonating with each step he took. Lance was granted with nothing but the sight of Keith’s back. His eyes followed the lines of sharp shoulder blades, descending ever so slowly to the thin waist hidden under that Garrison uniform.

“Lance.” Keith called out, standing closer now to the doors than he did before. Lance blinked, confused. “If you plan on coming with me then we should move out.”

“Y — Yeah. I’m coming.”

Lance rushed to reach Keith, crossing the distance between them in a matter of seconds. As he got closer, he could feel his mouth becoming dry, a distant echo of an unrelenting ringing in his ears. He _craved._ He ached deeply with an addiction he couldn’t shake off. The pain and the cold sweat wouldn’t stop until he self-medicated, until he fell into the abyss of those midnight eyes, flung across empty space. Only then would he finally find release.

The hangar where the Garrison had been keeping whatever had remained of the robeast was located at the other side of the building, guarded under heavy security. As paladins of Voltron and defenders of the universe, they were all granted access to the most obscure sections of the Galaxy Garrison. Lance couldn’t help but feel a spark of pride at the thought. When they had first left Earth, he was nothing but a cadet. A nobody. Now, he had an important role in the fight for the survival of the entire universe.

Keith and Lance walked side by side, together in silence. They hadn’t directly spoken to one another since their impromptu training session, since Keith went away. Words were born and died on Lance’s tongue, only to be reborn soon after; thoughts crossed his brain at the speed of light, fast and ruthless. He had never enjoyed the quiet, comfortable silence was such an overrated concept. Lance was one of those people that blossomed in the chaos, finding sustenance in the beautiful disarray that was life, drinking in the cacophony of voices and sounds.

But, if Lance had learned anything from his years living in the Castle of Lions, was that Keith was his direct opposite. He thrived in the complete absence of sound, finding comfort amongst the shadows. He would never be the first one to break it. No, that would always be Lance. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with air as he parted his lips to say something.

Anything was preferable to the silence.

“Where were you this morning?”

Keith asked as they stepped into another corridor, sending Lance’s thoughts reeling. When he dared a look back at Keith, he caught sight of his lips curling slightly down, eyes trained forward. Lance had no idea Keith had been paying that much attention on him and the thought was a little unsettling. How long had he been watching without being noticed? Lance wondered. Keith flicked his eyes up at him as he waited for Lance’s response.

“Why do you wanna know?” Lance asked in return, watching as Keith’s brows furrowed.

“Allura said she couldn’t find you and I…” he paused, swallowing hard. “We were all worried, I guess.”

Lance looked away from Keith, pressing two of his fingers against his eyes as he let out a tired sigh. When he mustered the strength to speak his voice was no more than a whisper.

“I’m fine, there’s nothing to be worried about. I just fell asleep at the Lions’ hangar, no big deal.” he said, dismissively.

As his feet started to move again, he felt Keith’s hand wrapping around his wrist in a vice grip, preventing him from taking a step further. He forced Lance to look back at him, faces merely inches apart from one another. Lance choked on his own breath, eyes widening as he took in the tormented night stars that swam in the vast black sea of Keith’s eyes.

“What is going on with you, Lance?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lance said. He still couldn’t manage to break free from Keith’s tight hold. He silently cursed the part of him that told him not to let go. The light had left Keith’s eyes when he glanced down at Lance.

“Don’t lie to me, Lance.”

“I’m not!” he argued, pulling his hand away in one sharp tug. Keith raised an eyebrow. “I’m not lying, okay? I was just too tired and I ended up falling asleep next to Red. Now can we just move on? I thought you said you wanted to check out that robeast?”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Like _what_?” Lance retorted, exasperated.

Keith shook his head, breathing hard.

“You just…” he started, pausing as he searched for the words to continue. “You look kind of distant.”

Lance looked up at Keith, giving in to his addictive tendencies.

“ _Distant_?” he parroted.

It took a moment for Keith to speak, every line of his face twisted in agony. Lance felt his throat closing up as he tried to swallow.

“Listen, if this is about what I told you yesterday… I’m sorry, okay?” Keith said, averting his eyes. Lance glanced down, seeing as his fingers were buried deep into the palms of his hands. “I’m sorry for leaving the team and I’m sorry I wasn’t a better leader for Voltron, or a better friend to you.”

“Keith —”

“I didn’t think you would care if I left.” he added in a small, unfamiliar voice.

Lance felt a sting, something sharp piercing his chest as the sound found its way to his ears. Whatever it was, it burned.

“Keith, that’s not… Of course I care!” Lance said, trying and ultimately failing to hide the hurt in his voice. “Why would you think that?”

“Can you blame me, Lance? All this time we’ve been paladins I thought you hated me.” Keith said, his voice cracking. “It was you who came up with that stupid rivalry, it was you who refused to be in the same room alone with me, it was you who pretended our bonding moment never happened. It was all _you_!”

Lance shook his head vehemently _._

“Keith, no.” Lance hastened to say. “God, that’s not… That’s not how I feel about you.”

“Then how _do_ you feel, Lance?” Keith asked, glaring back at Lance. “Why are you avoiding me? What did I ever do to make you so angry with me? Was it something I said? I — I’m lost in the dark here. Just tell me the truth. No more lies, please.”

Lance found himself standing before Keith, only mere inches away from his face, their bodies separated by an invisible thin wall of air. He wasn’t entirely sure how he had gotten there, he couldn’t remember ever moving in the first place. But all roads seemed to lead back to Keith.

“It wasn’t anything you did.” Lance murmured.

“Then what is it?” Keith asked.

Lance opened his mouth, but no sound came out. And then he was being gripped by the shoulders and backed violently against a wall, falling prey to those indigo eyes. It burned, burned, burned.

“Keith, what are you —”

“Tell me.” he said, eyes piercing into Lance’s blue orbs as if he would be able to unveil all the darkest secrets hidden in his soul. “Tell me, Lance.”

Lance felt the strong pull of the torrent, forcing him to drown. He tried to breathe under water, but his lungs were already filled with blood, dark and viscous. He was lost at the eye of a storm, melting under the torrential downpour of heavy rain. The truth burned hot on his tongue, like a vampire drunk on holy water. His hands moved frantically through his hair, searching for something to tether him to the present, to the now.

“I…” he swallowed sharply, his mouth suddenly dry. How could he admit the truth to Keith when he hadn’t even found the courage to admit it to himself? _How could he?_ _How could he? How?_ “Keith, I… I can’t, I can’t, _I can’t_.”

Lance closed his eyes, trembling hands reaching out in the dark, building up his walls only to have them being torn apart by those fierce eyes. When had he lost his balance? One moment he was fine, standing on a principle with his own two feet. In the next, he was tumbling down, falling into nothingness with no one to catch him at the bottom. He never thought it would hurt this much, the falling part.

And then Lance felt himself being enraptured by a familiar warmth, a gentle touch under his eyes and over delicate cheekbones, thumbs moving in an effort to dry out the tears that would have fallen if he hadn’t trapped them deep inside him. For a second, Lance thought it was Red, embracing him in her motherly warmth. He heard a voice calling out his name and he knew he had been wrong.

He had been wrong all this time.

“Breathe.” Keith said in a half whisper, his breath slipping through Lance’s parted lips. “Lance, you need to breathe.”

Lance glanced up at Keith’s eyes for what felt like the first time in years and saw the truth reflected in them. He remembered when his body used to be his own. He remembered how his heart had once belonged to him. But all Keith had to do was touch him and suddenly it was all his.

_Take it,_ Lance wanted to say. _Take it, it’s all yours._

“Lance? Can you hear me?” Keith asked, leaning further into his personal space, boundaries completely forgotten.

_Yes._ Lance thought, only vaguely aware of what was being asked of him. _Take me._ _I’m all yours._

“Lance —”

And then he was landing face first on the cold, hard floor. Blinking away the dizziness and the confusion, Lance averted his eyes from Keith.

_What have you done to me, Keith?_

“I don’t know.” Lance whispered, granting Keith with an answer at last. His lungs seemed be working properly again, his breaths coming out at a slower pace, calmer somehow.

Keith stared back at him, wordlessly. Lance could still feel his fingertips touching his face, sending him to a feverish state. He shook his head, pulling away from the touch and creating some distance between their bodies.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Keith.” Lance said, flickering his eyes back towards Keith. He swallowed down the crushing guilt as he came across the gutted expression on Keith’s face. “You wanted the truth? Well, that’s it. It has nothing to do with you. It’s all _me._ You did nothing wrong, I did. It’s all me, Keith. That’s the only truth I know.”

Keith took a step back, hands falling limp at the sides of his body. He looked defeated but it was Lance who suffered from the wounds and scars of battle. Lance took a deep, centering breath.

“Is it enough for you?” he asked, peering a gaze at Keith from behind thick eyelashes.

Keith answered with a single, sharp nod.

“It is.” he said. “For now, at least.”

An uncomfortable, heavy silence fell over them, broken only by the sound of their footsteps as they resumed their path to the hangar. Lance walked behind Keith, maintaining a safe distance, eyes glued to the raven hair covering a pale, slender neck. Neither of them dared to break the silence this time.

They were met with the gargantuan size of the mechanical monster as soon as they arrived at the hangar, passing through security measures before finally being allowed inside. One of the engineers led them to a lifting platform nearby in order for them to reach the robeast’s cockpit. Once the three of them were inside, he tapped down a command on a small screen and the platform started to move upwards, coming to a smooth stop at what Lance assumed was the entrance for the control cabin.

Keith and Lance crossed the small bridge connecting platform and robeast, sparing a last glance at the engineer, who had stayed behind.

“I’ll leave you guys to it. If anything comes up, just give me a call through the comm line.” he said before entering another command on the screen. A second later he started to descend.

Keith turned around, facing the dark entrance staring ominously at them. Lance watched as he stepped inside without hesitance, motioning with his head for Lance to follow. Carefully, he mimicked Keith’s footsteps. Lance blinked away the darkness as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, and as he opened them, he found his vision suddenly bathed in purple and violet hues.

“You would think that from the size of this thing the cockpit would be a bit more spacious.” Lance said as his eyes roamed around, noticing with growing frustration how he was barely able to move without brushing his elbow against Keith’s arm.

Keith breathed out a short, humorless laugh.

“I don’t think the comfort of their pilot was a main concern for whoever built this.” he said. Lance pursed his lips, wrinkling his nose at the thought.

“You’re probably right. They were more concerned about building something that could effectively crush us into tiny, little pieces.”

Keith sent Lance an amused look from the corner of his eye, lips curling into the smallest of smiles. Lance refused to acknowledge the searing heat spreading across his cheeks and neck. Hopefully the brand-new crimson tone on his skin wasn’t visible under that poorly lit cavernous space.

“You’re not funny, Lance.”

Lance raised his eyebrows, unconvinced.

“Oh, really?” he retorted. Keith nodded in response. “That smile on your face says otherwise.”

“What smile? Did you hit your head on the way in? Because you sound delusional.”

Lance took a hand to his chest, pretending to be offended as he gasped and schooled his features into an expression of pure bewilderment. He had parted his lips to protest, but hesitated when he noticed Keith approaching the control panel. Purple light glinted off of Keith’s eyes when he glanced down at one of the screens. Lance moved closer, careful not to startle him. He watched over Keith’s shoulder as his fingers moved frantically across the command board.

“What are you doing?” Lance asked, eyes following Keith’s movements intently.

“I’m trying to make sure what the Altean pilot says is true, if she ever decides to talk.” Keith replied. But all of a sudden, the frantic typing stopped and he simply scowled at the screen. “There’s something wrong. I don’t…”

“What is it, Keith? What did you find?”

“There’s something jamming the commands. I can’t access any of the folders. But the rest of the system seems to be working fine, it doesn’t appear to have been affected or damaged.” Keith said, still frowning.

“I remember Pidge saying something about that. Maybe that’s what they meant when they said we wouldn’t find anything in here.” Lance considered. “I mean, if neither Pidge nor Hunk managed to figure this out, what makes you think that you could?”

Lance stepped forward as he attempted to have a closer look at whatever was displayed at the screen. The movement caused him to accidentally brush his chest against Keith’s shoulder blades and he felt his entire body thrumming with the echoes of Keith’s humming as the sound reverberated from the back of his throat. Lance felt a chill cascading down his spine.

“Maybe.” Keith started. “But I can’t stop feeling like we’re missing something.”

“Oh, look who’s having a _feeling_ now.” Lance said, peering over Keith’s shoulder.

Keith let out a sigh.

“It’s not that I don’t trust Allura’s intuition on this.” he argued and, under the skeptical weight of Lance’s gaze, he rushed to add. “I do trust her, Lance, despite of what you may choose to believe. But what if she’s allowing this Altean to cloud her judgement? Allura is already acting like she’s some kind of ally when we don’t even know what her true intentions are. How do we know if it’s safe to believe her?”

“We don’t.” Lance said with a careless shrug. “Listen, I like the idea of putting our faith in this Altean as much as you do, but if Allura is wrong then we’ll deal with it together, as a team.”

Lance glanced down at Keith, drinking in the violet hues that painted his fair skin. He had his eyebrows set into a frown, deep in concentration as he processed Lance’s words. A nameless emotion crossed his features and he cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. When Keith didn’t say anything, Lance reached out, placing a hand on his arm and applying a small pressure where shoulder and clavicle met.

“Remember what you told me?” Lance said, lips curling into a smile. Keith lifted his face to meet Lance’s eyes. “Leave the math to Pidge, okay? You trusted me once to keep the team together, so trust me now. We’re gonna be fine.”

Keith smiled at him, the edges of his mouth lifting infinitesimally.

“Thanks, Lance.”

Lance breathed in, filling his chest with something warm and unrecognizable. He buried his fingers a fraction deeper in Keith’s shoulder, crumpling the red fabric between his fingers. Blue eyes searched, looking for something, looking for —

_“Keith, Lance.”_

A static noise reverberated through the cockpit, followed by Shiro’s voice as he came in through their communication devices.

_“Are you there? Come in.”_

Realizing what he was about to do, Lance snatched his hand away from Keith. His eyes widened and his face paled as the warmth vanished from the space between his ribs, cold panic slipping through the cracks in his bones and filling his veins with ice.

“Shiro? What’s wrong?”

It was Keith who answered. Lance was unable to do anything other than watch, heart hammering in his ears.

_“It’s Allura. There’s something wrong with her.”_

Lance felt his head going fuzzy, his breathing coming out in short, ragged puffs of air. He could feel Keith’s eyes on him, intent. When Lance remained quiet, lost in the fog surrounding his every thought, Keith brought the device closer to his mouth, answering in a firm voice.

“We’re on our way, Shiro.”

Keith wrapped his fingers around Lance’s wrist, enveloping his cold pulse in warmth. But it wasn’t enough. He was an iceberg adrift in the middle of the ocean and not even Keith’s searing touch was enough to melt the glacier growing inside him. Winter whispered in his ears and he was lost in the dark, drifting apart and growing colder, colder, colder.

* * *

 

By the time they arrived at the medical ward, Lance could no longer feel his legs. Keith had been ruthless as he pulled him through endless corridors, running fast and unrelenting. They were both winded as they stepped inside the room Allura was being kept, resting peacefully.

The other paladins were all gathered near the door. Their faces, twisted with grim and worried expressions, were devoid of color. Lance’s eyes moved from one paladin to the next, until they finally landed on the unmoving body laying on the bed, partially hidden under thick layers of blankets.

“Allura.” Lance breathed.

Coran was at her side, a stoic figure keeping guard at the foot of the bed. There was a deep crease between his eyebrows, tearing his face in two. Lance noticed with some dismay that even that horrendous orange moustache of his seemed stiffer than usual.

“What happened?” Keith asked from somewhere behind Lance. He was breathing hard, cutting the words in half as he spoke them.

“We were talking to the Altean pilot and…” Pidge trailed off. Lance snapped his head back, pinning them on the floor with a glacial glare.

“What did she do to Allura? Tell us what happened.” he growled, barely recognizing his own voice.

Pidge flinched at his tone and Hunk was quick to wrap them in his arms. He sent an apologizing look in Lance’s way. It was Shiro who spoke up, invading Lance’s line of vision in two long strides. And then all he could see were strands of fair, white hair and stormy, gray eyes.

“The Altean didn’t do anything. At least, not intentionally.” Shiro said, disturbingly calm. “Everything was fine, until it wasn’t anymore. They were talking and then, all of a sudden, Allura passed out.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t something the Altean did?”

Keith was asking all the questions Lance was supposed to, but in that moment, he could hardly organize his thoughts to construct coherent sentences. Lance hadn’t seen Keith as he approached him, suddenly appearing at his side. He could barely hear him. His senses were on overload, feeling too much and too little all at once. It was overwhelming.

“We would have seen something if that was the case.” Shiro argued.

“There was nothing, Keith.” Hunk pitched in, still standing at the door with Pidge at his side. “One minute Allura was fine and the other… She wasn’t.”

Lance swallowed, finding his voice in a hidden corner at the depths of his core.

“What did the doctors say?”

“They still don’t know what elicited this reaction from Allura, but they’re optimistic on her recovery.” Shiro said. “They couldn’t find anything wrong with her.”

Lance nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment. He moved away from Shiro and the others, his feet dragging him closer to Allura’s sleeping form. She looked terribly vulnerable, in an almost alarming way. He had very rarely seen her as fragile as she was now. It caused him a physical pain, to see her like that.

Lance missed the real Allura, strong-willed and bright-eyed. She didn’t belong to that still, white room. She was born to command the brightest of stars, to align entire solar systems to her liking. He tentatively rested a hand on top of hers and when he got no answer, he felt his eyebrows clenching tighter. His chest tightened. The love he felt for Allura didn’t rip his heart to shreds, it didn’t leave him broken and bleeding, it didn’t burn like a blazing, red inferno. But it was no less real. Loving Allura was like floating in the translucent waters of Varadero beach, it filled him with tranquility. It was easy, fluid, something that came naturally to him.

_But do you_ ache _for her?_

A low moan escaped Allura’s lips and she reluctantly opened her eyes, meeting Lance’s gaze.

“Lance?” she said, her voice only a specter of what it used to be.

Lance held her hand tighter, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, feeling her clammy skin under his lips.

“Hey, princess. It’s me.” he said, smiling soothingly at her. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” she said with a sigh, eyelids fluttering, brushing the soft skin of her high cheekbones. “I feel like all the energy has been drained from me, like I’m an empty vessel. Nothing more.”

Allura looked lost and all Lance could do was slip his hands between hers and hold on. All he could do was be there for her and pray that it would be enough somehow.

“You need to rest, princess.” Coran said.

Lance understood the hidden meaning behind his words, but he didn’t want to leave Allura alone, his selfish heart wouldn’t let him. But he had taken one look at Keith — a shadow hovering the periphery of the room, eyes clouded and impossibly dark — and he pressed a featherlight kiss on Allura’s knuckles before removing his hand from hers. There was a catch in his breath as he stepped away from the infirmary bed.

“We’ll be back later, princess. Coran is right, you must rest.” Shiro said, but his voice carried none of the anxiousness Lance could feel taking root in his ribcage.

They were a family. Stronger than blood, closer than friends. And Lance worried, remembering they no longer had healing pods. Now all of them — aliens and humans alike — depended on whatever modern medicine had to offer. Even if it wasn’t much. Even if it wasn’t enough. Lance felt a hand guiding him further away. Allura’s figure grew smaller and smaller, until he could no longer distinguish the delicate features of her face. A door closed. A hard pressure burrowed into his bones.

“Don’t worry, Lance. Allura’s in good hands. Coran knows everything there is to know about Altean medicine and whatever is happening to her he’ll be able to fix it.” Shiro said. “Besides, the doctors all believe she’ll have a speedy recovery.”

Lance nodded, not really paying attention to his words. There was something else nagging at his brain. Something with long claws brushed closer to Lance’s deepest fears. He could feel them waiting for him to break, to become less until he disappeared altogether. He sensed an impending disaster if he stayed there.

And, so, he ran.

There was a chorus of voices calling out his name, but the sound grew weaker as he created more distance between himself and the rest of them. He ran as fast as his legs could muster, with nowhere to go. The wind blew on his face, cold and sharp as it kissed his cheeks and ruffled his hair.

He ran, he ran, he ran.

He ran until his lungs gave out, until there was nothing but the icy chill of desert nights. He didn’t know where he was but it hardly mattered when he couldn’t run away from himself.

* * *

 

Lance felt small. Unbelievably, infinitesimally small under the endless darkness of the night sky. He was nothing but stardust, a speck of light that burned too bright, too fast. Soon the fire would die out, smothered from lack of oxygen. Embers would turn into ashes, night would turn into day, words would lose their meaning until they became nothing but sounds. Lance McClain would cease to exist, nothing but a memory, bound to oblivion.

A blanket of stars enveloped Lance, cold arms cradled him and a voice whispered a melancholic lullaby in his ears. He closed his eyes, inhaling the desert night air. It was clean, untouched. _So unlike himself_ , Lance thought bitterly. Looking down, flexing the long fingers that elongated from slim hands, he felt damaged. There were invisible cracks covering the expanse of sun kissed skin. Broken tendons and tired muscles obeyed his commands, but only barely. He could feel his brain slowly shutting down, his heart growing tired of that same old beat. Lance wanted it to stop. He wanted everything to just _stop._

“We were wondering where you were.” Shiro’s voice came from behind him, unmistakable in the stillness of the night time.

Lance didn’t turn around, afraid that if he moved too quickly he might unravel the fragile threads keeping himself together. He was paralyzed by fear, his anxieties were eating him from the inside, like parasites.

“We?”

Lance caught himself replying, voice barely audible but for his own ears. From his peripheral vision, he noticed Shiro’s large figure slowly approaching. Bathed under the silvery glow of thousands of stars their bodies casted long shadows, merging together as one as they moved side by side at the forgotten, spacious roof.

“The whole team was worried. You disappeared for hours, Lance. Nobody knew where you would have gone. You kind of just… Ran away.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Shiro asked, frowning as his eyes studied Lance’s profile.

“It seems all I can do lately is worry you guys.” Lance said, averting his gaze. “I don’t know what is happening to me. Sometimes I get overwhelmed, like there’s too much going on all at once. Everything is so loud and so bright. It’s all too much.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Shiro said with a sigh. Lance turned his head to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“You do?”

Shiro nodded. His lips curled as their eyes finally met. Lance wished he could muster the strength to return Shiro with a smile of his own, but he felt too weak, too small.

“It gets easier with time. You just need to be a little more patient with yourself, Lance.” he said. “And when things get rough, remember you’re not alone. We’re always here if you ever need to talk.”

Lance huffed, closing his hands into fists. He could feel the threads tightening as they were pulled harder, harder, harder. How long until they inevitably broke?

“I _know_ that, Shiro. I know. But it doesn’t make things any easier, does it?” he spilled the words carelessly, a torrential and poisonous downpour. “I feel like there’s an animal living inside me, scratching to get out. It’s eating at me, tearing me apart. I’m slowly losing my mind and it _hurts._ It hurts so much, Shiro.”

Lance closed his eyes, the blue from his irises leaking through thick eyelashes, cascading down freckled cheeks in a steady flow of tears. He tasted salt and sorrow in his tongue as the tears slid through the cracks of his chapped lips. His body trembled, a wolf howled in the back of his mind, lost in the blizzard raging inside him. And then he felt a pair of strong arms encircling him, drenching him in warmth. Lance held onto Shiro, digging his nails on broad shoulders and burying his face on a solid chest. Fingers moved gingerly through short, brown hair. Words were whispered against a dangerously hectic pulse.

“Lance, it will be okay. I promise you, it will all be okay again.” Shiro repeated over and over again, like a mantra. Lance cried harder, breaths becoming shallow, erratic. “Just give it time. It will pass, everything passes. Allura will be fine, she’s been through much worse.”

Lance was hit with the sudden urge to laugh. He wanted to throw his head back and exhale the kind of laughter tainted with hysteria, devoid of sense and reason. But tears rolled down his cheeks and his voice cracked as he spoke, lips trembling with barely controlled emotion.

“It’s not about Allura. At least, it’s not all about her.” he mumbled. “I love _him_ , Shiro. I love him and I’m going mad because of it. My heart breaks every time I look at him and I can’t breathe properly unless he’s in the room. I can’t even sleep anymore because every time I close my eyes I see his face. I’m _goddamn_ sick. He makes me sick but I can’t stop loving him. I tried, Shiro. I tried _so hard._ But I just can’t.”

Shiro’s hand stilled on Lance’s head, fingers no longer drawing circular motions through short strands of hair. Lance couldn’t bare to look at his mentor’s face, the closest thing Keith had had to family for years. How could he face Shiro after throwing his bleeding heart at his waiting hands? How could he face Keith knowing the dark truth about his feelings had been spilled like oil in the sea?

_I love him. I love him. I love him._

He did. He loved Keith with every particle of his body, with every breath that he took, with every painful beat of his heart. He loved him and he could never have him. Not in the only way that truly mattered. But he would rather die knowing Keith had been his friend than live not knowing what it was like to touch him, to breathe in the earthy, desert night air from his skin; to feel the powerful weight of his arms as he cradled him, carrying him from the edge of a fever dream that smelled of iron and smoke.

“Lance, are you talking about —”

Shiro started, only to be interrupted by a trembling exhale coming out of Lance’s mouth.

“Keith.”

Shiro dropped his arms as he carefully untangled himself from Lance. Lifting his eyes from the spot they had been glued to the floor, Lance saw the dark stain his tears had imprinted on Shiro’s uniform. His breathing had slowed down, but his eyes stung and his throat felt like sandpaper, raw from crying.

“For how long, Lance? How long have you felt this way about Keith?” Shiro asked.

“Too long.” Lance whispered, defeated. “I remember coming to the Garrison, seeing him flying the simulators and thinking I had never seen anything quite this thrilling before in my life. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wanted to be like him, but it didn’t matter how much I studied or how hard I worked, it was never good enough. Somewhere along the way the lines got blurred and I wasn’t thinking about Keith, the fighter pilot. I was thinking about Keith. Just _Keith._ I couldn’t get him out of my mind.”

Shiro’s eyes — a dark gray that reminded Lance of luxite blades — seemed to soften, like molten metal. There were endless amounts of affectionate feelings swimming in those silvery pools and Lance couldn’t help thinking about the times when he would dive head first into the ocean, holding his breath until his lungs burned before finally emerging amongst the waves. Something was holding him back now, iron spikes pierced the soles of his feet and rooted him to the ground. His throat itched with the desire to scream. Instead, he buried his teeth in his bottom lip with enough pressure to break skin and draw blood, opening old wounds.

“Oh, Lance…”

“Please, don’t.” Lance stopped him, shaking his head. “I don’t want your pity, Shiro. I already hate myself enough as it is.”

“I don’t pity you, Lance. Why would you think that?”

Lance shrugged.

“I have unreciprocated feelings towards one of my teammates, with whom I have to interact on a daily basis. Pity would be the automatic response.” he said. Shiro simply looked back at him, unresponsive, until finally deigning Lance with a retort.

“Does Keith know?” he asked. Lance wished he hadn’t. “I’m guessing from your silence that he doesn’t. You should tell him, Lance.”

Lance snorted, loud enough for Shiro to frown in response. But the absurdity of his demand required an equally exasperated reaction.

“Why? He doesn’t feel the same way, so what’s the point? It’s hopeless.”

Lance felt a hand on his shoulder and as he lifted his eyes, he saw Shiro staring intently at him.

“Lance, you need to tell Keith how you feel.” he said. “Trust me, you don’t want to wait until it’s too late. Just tell him. He deserves to know.”

Lance gritted his teeth, smothering another sob from escaping past his lips. He still regretted that unexpected breakdown, in front of Shiro of all people. And his broken pieces still laid scattered across the floor, waiting for him to pick them up.

“But what about Allura? Oh, _God,_ how am I gonna tell Allura? She’s gonna hate me. I know she will.”

Lance started to ramble and looked away, unable to bear the weight of Shiro’s gaze. He felt the former paladin’s grip tightening as he spoke in a gentle and yet firm voice.

“She will understand, Lance. But you must tell her. Just be true to your heart and no wrong can be done.” his lips curled into a reassuring smile. “Now go get some sleep. You look like you need it.”

“Thanks, Shiro.”

Shiro’s smile grew wider, covering half of his face.

“Goodnight, Lance.”

And then he had his back turned to Lance as he walked away, leaving him alone under the dim glow of starlight. In the silence, the sound of his heartbeat resonated in strong echoes, strangely resembling war drums.

_Tell him, tell him, tell him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, feel free to leave your thoughts on this chapter in the comments below and to message me outside of ao3. I exist on tumblr too! @vlctorvale is my main blog but i'll be posting some previews of future chapters on my art blog @niccoarte


	3. part iii - fire in my bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He set his foot on the adjacent room and then everything just stopped. The Earth was no longer orbiting around the Sun. The crickets outside were no longer chirping. The cold night breeze blowing through the windows had been replaced by a heavy stillness. It was almost as if a thick, impenetrable curtain had befallen over the world.  
> Lance forgot how to breathe for a second, coughing loudly and clumsily as the air tore its way forcefully down his throat, reaching for a pair of starved lungs. And he realized he too had stopped.  
> Standing near the threshold, smiling sheepishly at the matriarch of the McClain clan, was Keith. Paladin of the Black Lion. Leader of Voltron. Member of the Blade of Marmora. Keith. His Keith. Except, not really, Lance reminded himself and the thought left a bitter after taste in his mouth.  
> “Keith?” Lance breathed out, feeling winded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I wanted to thank everyone who takes a time in their day to leave a comment and a kudo in this story <3 I always smile whenever I see a notification on my email about a new comment, you guys are the sweetest! This is a longer chapter, but it's important to move the story along...  
> The title for this chapter came from Fleurie's song 'Fire in my bones'. In case you haven't noticed every chapter will contain a song at the beginning kfjdkf  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! Anything else feel free to leave in the comments or message me on tumblr @niccoarte

**part iii**

**fire in my bones**

* * *

_Fire in my bones quakes, bending but it won’t break_

_Staging a revolting, quite as its jolting_

_Singular in motion, fighting but I’m frozen_

_Shaking and its shifting, falling as I’m lifting_

* * *

 

Lance was used to the noise. He had grown up in a house constantly filled with sounds, a cacophony of loud voices and desperate calls for attention. The concept of peace and quiet was altogether nonexistent in the McClain household, where chaos reigned. And he loved it. He thrived in it, like a field of tulips blossoming during spring.

But not today.

Today not even the cheerful laughter erupting from his siblings’ mouths or the playful bickering between his nephews and nieces were enough to smother the white noise filling his head, flickering with every thought. Shiro’s words were imprinted in the soft tissue of his brain, reverberating in painful waves from the back of his skull towards his temples, pulsating with every heartbeat.

He needed to tell Keith the truth. He needed to tell Allura what a fool he truly was, how blind he had been regarding his own treacherous heart. He needed, he needed, he needed… But every time he so much as thought about the words with which he could begin such a monumental, life-altering confession, he collided face-first against a blank concrete wall.

Lance couldn’t come up with anything good enough to make them understand how deep his feelings ran, how much he _longed_ , how devastatingly fucked up he truly was. There were no words in the English dictionary able to embrace such soul-crushing feelings. He felt as if he was sinking into quicksand, being slowly swallowed by the agonizing fear of rejection. It was useless. He was useless.

Lance hadn’t realized he had his eyes closed until he felt a hand coming into contact with his shoulder, shoving him a fraction to the side. He opened them wide in surprise, ocean blue eyes searching for the source of his sudden lost balance. Seating beside him, he caught sight of a smiling Veronica, eyes as blue as his own glistening with mischief.

“ _Ouch_! What was that for?” Lance glared at his sister, rubbing a hand in the sore spot on his shoulder.

“I barely even touched you, you big baby.” Veronica retorted, smile still immaculate in her full lips. Lance’s eyebrows knitted together in a frown.

“Yeah, well, you have a heavy hand. Next time, if you want my attention so badly just call my name, like a _normal person._ ”

Veronica rolled her eyes in the customary McClain dramatic fashion, shaking her head and throwing both hands in the air, palms up, as if pledging surrender.

“Okay, sorry. God _,_ someone is touchy today.” she mumbled.

Lance sent a searing look back at her, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched tightly.

“Oh, shut up, Ronnie.” he hissed in return, lips screwed into irritation.

Veronica arched her eyebrows at Lance’s crude response, high enough for them to touch her dark hairline. She took a glass already half empty to her waiting lips, no doubt filled with some alcoholic beverage, and for a split of second Lance wished he was old enough to drink. Perhaps generous doses of alcohol were exactly what he needed to numb the insistent pain in his chest. A bubbling, bitter cure. He felt his mouth going dry and he licked his lips absent-mindedly.

“Is this about Allura? What happened? Did you two got into a fight?” Veronica bombarded Lance with questions, not even trying to be subtle as she shamelessly probed her brother’s privacy.

Lance let out a tired sigh, drooping his head.

“Nothing happened between us. Everything is fine. We’re great, actually.” he said in a small voice, low enough to be mistaken as a whisper. _You should be happy with Allura_ , nagged a voice at the back of his head. _Why aren’t you happy with her?_

Images of midnight eyes flashed across his mind and something large, all-encompassing shoved against his insides. Lance felt betrayed by his own subconscious as the answer to the enigma he had been struggling with nearly fell from his lips.

_Because she is not_ him _._

A second passed in silence.

_She is not Keith._

“Then why won’t you bring her to one of the McClain’s famous family dinners? _Mamá_ is dying to meet her. We all are.”

There was no disapproval or disappointment dripping from Veronica’s tone, only curiosity, unmistakable by that single raised eyebrow and that knowing smirk hanging from her lips. Lance repressed the urge to let out another sigh, feeling unbelievably tired all of a sudden. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots and closing his eyes briefly.

“I just think it’s a bit too early for the whole meeting the family thing, you know?” Lance said, but he only partially meant the words. Veronica looked back at him expectantly, clearly unconvinced. He took a deep breath before adding. “There is a war coming, Ronnie. And being a paladin of Voltron means we’re the universe’s last line of defense. Sometimes it can get a bit overwhelming, it’s hard to find time to deal with any of… _That._ ”

Veronica nodded and Lance noticed the smile had vanished from her features. Now her lips were set in a grim line, dark waves crashed in those oceanic eyes, breaking at the shore.

“Yeah, I get that. I just…”

She trailed off and Lance urged her to continue.

“What?”

“I just want you be happy, Lance.” Lance nearly choked on his own breath at his sister’s words, an imaginary blade aimed to his chest, its sharp point piercing through flesh as it lodged in the space between his lungs. There was no relief, no room to breathe. “You’re too damn young to be fighting some intergalactic war. You should be out there, discovering yourself, learning from your mistakes, going on dates, being a normal teenager and not risking your life against an evil alien empire.”

Lance’s entire body stiffened at the remark and he flung himself away from the chair, jumping back onto his feet as he stared down at his sister. She watched him wide-eyed and slack-mouthed, momentarily forgetting about the glass in her hand. Lance could feel his resolve dissolving and his body suffered with telltale signs from his effort to maintain some semblance of control. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Try as he might, he simply was unable to inhale enough oxygen to clear the fog from his thoughts.

“Lance —”

“I’m not a normal teenager. Not anymore.” Lance spit out the words through clenched teeth, breathing heavily. “I’m a paladin of Voltron now. That’s all there is.”

There was a pause.

A heartbeat.

Lance’s eyes followed as Veronica stood from her chair, leaving her glass on the table as she moved closer, reaching for him in short but determined steps. Their eyes met, tempestuous and hard. Lance found himself wishing for the quiet for the first time in his life. Unfortunately, his sister was never one to grant him any special favors. He was reminded of that fact then.

“That’s not true. You’re more than just a paladin.” she said, her voice filled with a certainty Lance had forgotten what it felt like to possess. “You’re still _Lance._ He’s in there somewhere, you just need to find him again.”

She lifted her chin, pointing towards the center of Lance’s chest, strangely hollow where his heart was supposed to beat. He blinked, swallowing hard. His brain had some difficulty processing everything that had just been said. Yet another thing he needed: _time._ And yet another thing he couldn’t have. Veronica had a sympathetic smile painted across her lips and the gesture looked foreign in her features, something Lance couldn’t remember having witnessed before during his childhood. And just as he was about to ask when had his sister acquired such wisdom, a familiar voice called his name from across the room. Lance thought he had heard the distant sound of a knock, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Lance, _mijo,_ there is someone here to see you!” his mother’s voice reached Lance’s ears in the form of muffed echoes after passing through thick walls.

“I’m coming, _mamá_!” he called back, sparing one last glance at Veronica before making his way to the front door.

He set his foot on the adjacent room and then everything just stopped. The Earth was no longer orbiting around the Sun. The crickets outside were no longer chirping. The cold night breeze blowing through the windows had been replaced by a heavy stillness. It was almost as if a thick, impenetrable curtain had befallen over the world.

Lance forgot how to breathe for a second, coughing loudly and clumsily as the air tore its way forcefully down his throat, reaching for a pair of starved lungs. And he realized he too had stopped.

Standing near the threshold, smiling sheepishly at the matriarch of the McClain clan, was _Keith._ Paladin of the Black Lion. Leader of Voltron. Member of the Blade of Marmora. Keith. His Keith. _Except, not really,_ Lance reminded himself and the thought left a bitter after taste in his mouth.

“Keith?” Lance breathed out, feeling winded.

He had barely spoken above a whisper, or at least he had thought so, but Keith had turned to face him from across the room, acknowledging Lance’s presence. Their eyes met and Keith smiled, the gesture too small and fleeting to be noticed from a distance, but Lance had been paying attention. And the moment the edges of those lips quirked slightly upwards, he felt his knees growing weak. _He should smile more,_ Lance caught himself thinking.

“Hey, Lance.” Keith said, greeting him with a timid wave. Lance could do nothing but stare, having forgotten how to properly form words.

“Well, clearly you have important matters to discuss. I’ll make sure no one comes barging in and accidentally interrupt you two.” Lance blinked at his mother’s voice, being brought back from his stupor. He looked at her and caught sight of her smile, warm and comforting. “But my offer still stands. You’re more than welcome to join us for dinner, Keith. Any friend of Lance deserves a place at our table.”

Lance couldn’t be sure given their current distance, but he thought he saw Keith’s cheeks turn a dark shade of red. He bit down his bottom lip to suppress a laugh. From afar, he watched as his mother applied a gentle touch against Keith’s arm before pulling away, disappearing behind a door that led to the kitchen.

It was just the two of them, separated by an invisible barrier raised from mutual hesitation. The room was silent, except for the background noise Lance’s family provided. He swallowed thickly, clearing his throat before speaking.

“What are you doing here? Did something happen at the Garrison?” Lance asked, silently cursing himself for sounding harsher than what he had initially intended.

Keith opened his mouth to reply, but before he could get a word out, Lance was already moving, coming closer, closer, closer —

Until they stood face to face, close enough for Lance to be able to identify all the different colors swimming in those bottomless eyes, hues of light gray and dark blue and every color in between. From the corner of his eye, Lance noticed the frantic movement of Keith’s hands, opening and closing into tight fists in quick succession.

_Was he nervous?_

Lance’s blood ran cold in his veins. Something was wrong.

“Is it Allura? Did she get worse? I was there this morning and she looked fine.” Lance blurted out, voice laced with concern. “Talk to me, Keith.”

Keith shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, now longer than what Lance remembered. Raven strands curled on top of his shoulders, brushing at the fabric of his uniform. He released a short sigh.

“No, no. That’s not why I’m here.” Keith said, looking Lance in the eye and managing to calm his erratic pulse. “I came to tell you she is out of the medical ward. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with her and since her vitals were stable, they decided to let her go. I just thought you should know.”

“I — Just — Thank you for coming all the way here to tell me.” Lance managed to say, voice faltering and cracking as a wave of relief surged through him, melting the ice from his veins. But something about Keith’s remaining stiff posture and pursed lips gave Lance pause. “Is there something else you wanna tell me, Keith?”

Keith averted his gaze, head downcast as he stared intently at his boots. His hands were now permanently closed into fists, knuckles turning white as he buried his blunt nails deep into his palms. Lance took a step forward, hesitant at first. But as he drew nearer, closing the distance between their bodies, his movements became sharper, imbued with some sort of fierce determination, boosted with new found courage. Lance stretched out his hand, aiming for Keith’s clenched fingers. Slowly, he took Keith’s hand in his own and began to unfold his fingers, one by one.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me, Keith.” Lance murmured, staring straight ahead, waiting for Keith to return his gaze. He never did. “I’m still your right-hand man, right? You can trust me.”

This time Keith did look up. An entire galaxy shone in those deep, indigo eyes and Lance allowed himself to get lost in them. He used to stare at the night sky when he was younger, counting the stars, tracing every constellation with the tip of his finger. The vastness of the unknown universe calmed him whenever life became too hectic. It hardly mattered if he was miles upon miles away from his family, away from _home_ , when the stars painted that very same pattern back in Cuba. And, in those fleeting moments, he felt a little less alone.

Now, stargazing into Keith’s eyes, he felt the same as he did then. Almost as if he was being carried away by tranquil waves, floating amidst the white foam of the translucent tourmaline sea, finally breathing with ease.

“I trust you, Lance. It’s not…” Keith began, choking midsentence. Lance applied the smallest of pressures in their clasped hands. “I’m not good with words. I’m not like you.”

“That’s okay. You can take your time.”

Keith looked away and the words poured easily from his parted lips.

“I was just wondering how you were holding up, with Allura being hurt and everything else that has been going on lately.” he said in a low voice, barely above a whisper. “You looked pretty shaken up at the med bay, but you left before I got the chance to —” Keith let out a long sigh, taking a deep breath before continuing. “How are you, Lance? And be honest.”

Lance frowned, his hold on Keith’s hand loosening a fraction. He took a furtive glance at their intertwined fingers, tanned skin in stark contrast against a pale canvas. Night and day. Shadow and light. Fire and water. Opposites to one another in every conceivable way, physical or metaphorical.

And yet…

“Are you asking me this as the leader of Voltron?” Lance asked reluctantly, brows furrowed as he studied Keith’s features.

“No, Lance. I’m asking you this because I care about you.” he said in a firm voice, leaving no room for doubt. “This has nothing to do with Voltron or saving the goddamn universe. It’s all about _you_.”

_I left because I care about your feelings more than mine._

Lance swallowed with some difficulty the uncomfortably large knot that had formed in the back of his throat. Familiar heat flooded his body, setting his face on fire and lightening up the skin from the inside out. Keith didn’t seem to notice the subtle change in Lance’s skin tone, or perhaps he was simply extremely good at pretending. Either way, Lance was grateful for the lack of a sarcastic remark.

“Well, I… I’ve been worse.” Lance murmured. His lips trembled and his voice cracked and Keith was staring back at him with a skeptical glint burning in those cruel eyes of his. “I mean, I feel better now that I know Allura was released from the med bay.”

Keith nodded and his entire body suffered from a violently abrupt transformation. His shoulders sagged and his head nearly collapsed between them, weighting down, tearing his eyes away from Lance’s and towards the hard wooden floor. Lance fought against the urge to reach out and brush away the rebellious dark strands of hair that had fallen before Keith’s face with the sudden movement.

“You must really love her, huh?”

It sounded like an innocent question, but it burned in Lance’s skull like sacrilege, a dark secret muttered in the form of a whisper, leaving a soldier’s mouth in an unusual moment of weakness, something that would never happen again. He would make sure of that. But the damage had been done and Lance’s ears had picked up on Keith’s sorrowful notes. And yet, somehow, Lance managed to keep his own lips sealed after taking one look at Keith’s current flustered state. He didn’t mean to say that, but he did. He did and now he needed Lance to pretend nothing had escaped his mouth.

And so that’s exactly what Lance did, but on the inside a silent battle was raged.

_No,_ Lance wanted to scream, but no sound came out. _It’s you._

_I’m in love with_ you, _not her._

_You._

_You._

_You._

“I should get going. I’m supposed to meet Acxa at the training deck in an hour.” Keith said, doing a poorly executed job at changing the subject. He took a step back, unhooking his fingers from Lance’s and reaching blindly for the door.

Lance was moving before his brain had the capacity to compute his movements, limbs flailing loose as he aimed for Keith’s wrist. But Keith had always been the faster pilot and he was already too far out of reach for Lance to lock him in an iron grip. He exhaled sharply, followed by a loud noise that rippled through his vocal chords, rising from the back of his throat all the way to his lips.

“Keith, wait!” Lance exclaimed, only barely managing to avoid the fine line separating a request from a plea. Some unknown force of the universe finally seemed to take pity on Lance and worked on his favor, paralyzing Keith’s legs and forcing him to turn around. He questioned Lance with his eyes, no words were needed. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner? My mom is an amazing cook and she made my favorite today, her famous garlic knots.”

“Maybe some other time.” Keith replied with a lackluster smile tainting his stern features. Lance felt his stomach turn on itself at the feigned emotion. “Goodnight, Lance.”

_Don’t go._

Eyes full of stars disappeared behind a mass of black hair, blown by the wind. And, in the blink of an eye, Lance could see nothing but Keith’s back, structured after his Galran ancestors, built on bones as sharp as cut-glass and slim, delicate muscles.

_Stay._

But he never did.

Lance blinked again, as brief as the first time, and Keith was gone.

* * *

 

_Only the truth will set you free._

Lance had heard his mother say throughout his entire life, ever since he was just a skinny little boy, running around the golden coast of Varadero beach, losing himself to the blue waves. He never thought much about that old saying. But _now_ he thought he might believe her. Lance felt like a prisoner in a web of lies, a punishment of his own making. Dark vines grew thick around his bony ankles, shackles made from the same fabric as nightmares, heavy as iron and sharp as thorns. He could hardly breathe, feeling like he was constantly being pulled by the current swirling under his feet, taking him under, under, under.

The morning following Keith’s visit, Lance had been the first to wake up, used to being an early riser and altogether a morning person. Or rather he had not slept, spending the entirety of the night painfully awake, falling in the abyss of his thoughts. As consequence of his lack of rest, the day had begun grim and he couldn’t find in himself the strength to get out of bed. Usually, after dinner with his family, Lance would return to the Garrison, back to the quarters that had been assigned for him, as well as the rest of the paladins. But being there meant risking a casual encounter with Keith or Allura, and he simply wasn’t ready for such a confrontation.

At least, not yet.

Lance needed to prepare himself, to choose carefully the words with which he would construct the speech he would give to Allura. _God_ , he hoped Shiro was right and she wouldn’t hate him for doing this. Lance didn’t think he was able to deal with Allura’s fury and everlasting scorn.

He rehearsed the makeshift script he had scribbled on the previous night as he made his way to the control station. He muttered the same collection of words under his breath, again and again, like a mantra, and whenever he got something wrong or drifted too far from what he had meticulously planned, he started over, from the top. Lance was already halfway down the corridor when he sensed an intimate wave of warmth spread through the back of his head, invisible tendrils sliding down his neck and back, sending shivers down his spine.

_Red._

Lance stopped dead in his tracks, a crease forming between his brows. He hesitated, but eventually decided to change course and head towards the hangar where the Lions were all safely guarded. It was only a small detour, he told himself as he hurried his footsteps, practically running to Red’s call, her feline-like noises rumbling in his ears, as distant as a thunderstorm breaking at the horizon.

He stormed in the open space and his eyes widened in surprise.

Standing right next to one of Red’s gigantic paws was Allura. She had replaced the white medical gown for the Garrison uniform, hair falling in silvery, loose waves over her shoulders, cascading down her back. Her eyes were closed, hand touching the metallic surface of the Lion, elegant fingers splayed out before her. She looked ethereal, almost. A saint or a goddess, Lance couldn’t be certain, but definitely someone destined for greatness.

Lance observed from a distance the silent connection between Allura and the mechanical Lion as they appeared to be communicating through thoughts alone, sharing a bond he wasn’t aware existed. Red purred inside Lance’s head once again, filling him with flickering feelings, colorful lights exploded behind closed eyelids. She was trying to tell him something, but Lance didn’t have Allura’s intuition or her deep knowledge on Altean alchemy. He didn’t know how to respond. Lance felt cold and vulnerable all of a sudden, stranded alone in an isolated island, unable to form meaningful connections, human or otherwise.

Lance took a deep breath, air leaving his lungs through trembling lips. Anxiousness flared up his senses, skin tingled as if he had been electrocuted, the hairs at the nape of his neck stood on end. He frantically curled and uncurled his twitchy fingers, a feeble attempt at releasing the tension accumulated in his rigid joints. Reluctance tasted bitter against his tonsils as he took a step forward, then another, and one more after that, until he was right beside Allura, close enough to touch.

“Hey.” he called in what he thought was a rather pathetic voice. Lance gave it another try after clearing his throat, sounding stronger this time. “Hey, Allura.”

The princess turned her head to the side, sparkly blue eyes opening and glowing under the dimly lit lights. She smiled as her gaze fell on Lance and he felt his ribcage constricting, a heavy weight settling between the bones. _He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t —_

“Hi, Lance.” Allura greeted him in return, her voice filled with affection. Lance couldn’t stare at the smile on her face, focusing instead on a small silver scratch etched against one of Red’s claws.

“What are you doing down here all alone? Shouldn’t you still be resting?” he asked, voice clipped and barely audible.

“I missed Blue.” Allura granted him, simply, as if that was all the explanation required. “I was about to leave when I sensed Red’s distress.”

Lance swallowed thickly, eyes still glued to the ugly, silver scratch tearing a metal claw in half. He wondered how long would take for Allura to force his eyes back towards her.

“Yeah, I sensed it too. That’s why I came here.” he paused before adding, a shy confession. “Actually, I was on my way to see you.”

Allura raised a pair of thin, white eyebrows.

“Me?”

“You.” Lance nodded. “I — I was looking for you because we… Need to talk. I guess.”

“You _guess_?” she asked, brows furrowing in confusion. And then she took a moment to see Lance, _really_ see him. She didn’t seem to like what she had found. “Lance, what is wrong? Are you upset about something?”

Lance buried his hands deep into the pockets of his pants as he felt the tremors spreading across clammy palms. He still couldn’t face Allura, eyes staring at nothing, refusing to meet hers. Lance opened his mouth, an unconscious effort, but his tongue sat heavy, tangled. Something soft and featherlike traced his chin, no more than a phantom touch. He closed his eyes tightly when he realized it was Allura’s finger, forcing his head upwards, slowly, purposefully.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Lance. Why can’t you look at me?” Allura insisted. Lance shook his head vigorously, catching his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress a noise from escaping. “Lance, I can see there’s something clearly upsetting you. Is this… Is this about what happened with the Altean pilot? I’m sorry if I worried you. I didn’t mean —”

“Stop.” Lance hissed. His voice was clear despite the murkiness lurking in the dark corners of his mind. “You don’t have to apologize.”

A short, humorless laugh left his lips. It sounded wrong, backwards, something cold and ugly that didn’t belong to him. When he opened his eyes, he caught Allura staring, her entire face twisted in deep rooted concern. Lance grew more agitated, his heart rattled the bars of the cage he had built around it, becoming harder to stifle, impossible to control.

“Lance —”

“If anyone here should apologize, it is me. I’m a farce, Allura.” he spit the words out, harsh, without preamble. Allura’s eyes grew wide, the lilac flecks doting her cerulean blue irises glistened. “I’ve been lying to you. I — _God_ — I don’t think I can do this…”

Allura took a hesitant step back, withdrawing her hand from Lance’s face. His muscles grew tense in response to the loss of contact.

“What are you talking about, Lance? You’ve been… Lying to me?” she wasn’t able to disguise the hurt from creeping into her voice.

Lance watched, helpless, as cracks rippled across her delicate features, crumbling down. He didn’t think he could despise himself any more than what he already did, but turns out he was wrong.

“I was wrong, Allura. I was _so wrong_.” Lance voiced his thoughts out loud, his breath coming out in ragged puffs of air, unstable. “I wanted you for so long I could hardly believe you had finally agreed to go out with me, and now here I am, screwing up everything I worked so hard for. I’m pathetic.”

“Lance, that’s not true. You’re not —”

“Yes, it is!” he erupted. Allura flinched, as if she had been burned by the lava dripping from his tone. Lance took a deep, calming breath. He let his eyes close and started again. “I had this absurd idea that we were made for each other, soulmates or whatever. I thought you were everything I needed.”

“And you don’t think that anymore?” Allura asked once the silence had settled between them.

Lance shook his head.

“No, I — I don’t.” he muttered, for once telling the truth. He came to the conclusion that honesty hurt, like a sharp jab at his guts. “The truth is that the universe does not work on our favor and we were never meant to be together. I was alone and confused and I mistook infatuation with love. And I think… I think my heart has been trying to tell me that for a long time, but I just couldn’t hear it.”

“What is your heart telling you now?”

“That I should let you go.” Lance finally was able to exhale the air he had been holding for so, _so long._ It was liberating. A heavy weight that had been lifted from his chest, allowing his heart to beat more easily, less painfully. It felt good not to be hiding behind a wall of lies anymore, a glass ceiling that no longer threatened to crumble to pieces above his head. “You deserve someone better, Allura. Someone who doesn’t lie to you, someone who _loves_ you.”

At that, Allura’s frown deepened, dark lines more prominent at the edges of her eyes and across her forehead. She didn’t look broken anymore, only confused. Lance found no traces of anger burning hot in those icy blue eyes of hers.

“And you don’t love me anymore? I’m not sure I understand, Lance.”

“I thought I did.” Lance sighed. “I care about you, Allura. I really do. But I don’t _ache_ for you. Isn’t this what love is supposed to do? To burn?”

Allura blinked away the shining moisture gathering in her eyes, shoulders sagging down a fraction. Something had changed in the expression on her face, suddenly drenched in melancholia. Lance fought against the impulse to cradle Allura in his arms, as if he hadn’t been the one responsible to cause her such terrible pain. He refrained himself, planting the soles of his boots on the cold ground.

“Allura, have you ever been in love?” Lance found the courage to ask, as gentle as he could, aiming to soothe the throbbing bruises he had inflicted on her.

She shrugged, a tiny movement of shoulders, barely noticeable if it wasn’t for their close proximity.

“Once… I guess.” Allura murmured after a brief pause.

Lance’s thoughts immediately delved deep into the past. Back, back, back. Towards a room illuminated in its entirety by some ominous violet glow, two silhouettes coming together amidst the shadows, extinguishing the residual space between their bodies with a lingering kiss. He remembered how much it hurt. A sting, a permanent burn mark in his chest, where a scorched heart kept on beating, running on nothing but fumes and pain. Lance had thought he had lost Allura that night, the moment her lips had touched someone else’s. But how could he lose someone that had never been his?

“Then you must know what I’m talking about.”

Allura lifted her eyes to meet his, and Lance counted down his erratic heartbeats as a pause grew into prolonged silence, seconds stretching into minutes.

Until a resigned sigh left Allura’s mouth, conceding defeat at last.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t.” she murmured.

Sometimes Lance wished for the same, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

“We make quite the pair, don’t we?” he said instead, smiling sadly. Allura joined him in his pitiful attempt of a joke, lips curling up a fraction. “Allura, I didn’t ruin us, did I?”

A scoff, followed by a shaking head, silver strands of hair flying over dark skin and pink markings that emitted a faint glow in the dimly lit room.

“No, Lance. I don’t think you did.” she said, clearing any residual doubt lingering inside him. “I’m glad you told me the truth, but I’ll need some time to gather my thoughts and revisit my feelings. Is that okay with you?”

“Y — Yeah, yeah, sure. Take all the time you need, Allura. I — I’m sorry for hurting you and for all the lying. I just hope someday you find it in your heart the will to forgive me.”

“In the last couple of years, I have learned that time is capable of healing almost everything.” she whispered, like the words were part of some intricate secret. “When we decided to give this a chance, we agreed that no matter what came to pass between us it wouldn’t affect Voltron. I won’t allow my feelings to cloud my judgement and I hope, for the sake of the universe, that you do the same, Lance.”

Lance nodded eagerly, rushing to reassure Allura.

“I can do this, no problem. Voltron comes first. You know what they say, with great power comes great responsibility and all that.” he spoke fast, the end of a sentence joining the beginning of another, amounting to the confusion evident on Allura’s wrinkled forehead.

“Lance,” Allura called after a moment of stark silence. Lance snapped his head back towards her, humming a soft noise in return. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Allura. Anything.” he replied. “I’m an open book.”

“Who is it?”

He felt the color dissolve from his face, the loud thrumming of his heart, galloping relentlessly inside his chest, was the only sound he was able to make out. Lance swallowed, hard, but the interior of his mouth remained as dry as the desert extended for miles and miles outside.

“ _What_?” he croaked out, weak and embarrassed, becoming smaller by every passing second.

“The person you ache for, the one you claim to love. Who is it?” Allura echoed her question. Lance froze, becoming ice.

“I — I don’t…”

The words died on Lance’s tongue as the ground shifted beneath his feet, hit abruptly by tremors. It lasted for about five seconds before finally settling down, the ground stable once again. Lance blinked, his heart rate rising rapidly, chest heaving. His hands were wrapped around something solid, fingers digging into soft skin. Looking to the side, his eyes fell on a mane of silvery white hair that brushed the apple of his cheeks. A dull ache erupted from his left arm and it took Lance a moment to realize Allura had her nails buried deep in him as well. They held each other for balance, some semblance of stability amidst the chaos.

A moment later, white, searing light flashed before their eyes, forcing them to block out the intrusive brightness. Reluctantly, Lance forced his eyelids to open, lashes fluttering. He inhaled sharply at the sight before him, a gasp leaving his mouth, hovering in the space between them.

“Keith —”

“Are you guys okay? We have been looking everywhere for you.” he said, interrupting Lance.

Keith had his eyes locked on Lance, a blackhole absorbing all the remaining light from the room. Even from afar, Lance was able to pick up on the chaotic energy leaving the black paladin’s body in waves, shoulders stiff and fingers grabbing a handful of the space wolf’s fur in a tight grip. Behind him, Acxa’s eerily dark blue eyes scanned the room, studying them with careful deliberation.

“We’re fine. What is the matter?” Allura spoke up first, sparing a quick glance back at Lance before pulling away. He said nothing as he felt her withdrew her touch.

“We don’t know yet. I was on the training deck when I felt the first tremor. Pidge and Hunk came through the comms soon after saying they had felt something similar.” Keith sent a glare in Lance’s direction, narrowing his eyes accusingly. “I tried reaching out to you, Lance, but you didn’t respond. I was only able to find you because Black told me you were here.”

Lance patted down his pockets, searching for the communicator device. He came up empty. Nothing. _Nada._ And then realization hit him, leaving him dry and cold. He was assaulted by memories of that morning, how he had taken the device from his pocket to place it on top of the sink counter before entering the shower and how he had never returned it once he was dressed again. It probably still sat there, completely forgotten.

“ _Fuck_.” he cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, man, I forgot to bring it with me.”

Keith rolled his eyes, letting out a tired sigh.

“No shit, Sherlock. Never mind, we need to get to Hunk and Pidge to figure out what is going on.”

As soon as the words left Keith’s mouth they were hit by another tremor. It lasted longer this time, strong enough to rattle Lance’s bones and cause a pulsating throb behind his eyes. This time, when his hands reached out for balance, they didn’t encounter Allura. Instead, his fingers came into contact with something soft and slightly fluffy. Lance lowered his gaze, finding Keith’s space wolf nested safely beside his legs, looking up at him. Lance felt his lips cracking into a smile.

“ _Keith? Lance? Allura? Are you guys there?_ ”

Hunk’s voice exploded through Keith and Allura’s devices, sounding frantic as he called out their names repeatedly.

“Hunk, we’re here. I found them.” Keith replied, a stark contrast between their tones.

Lance aimed for Allura’s communicator, hanging from her belt, and brought it towards his face. He ignored the indignant noise that left her lips at the sudden intrusion.

“Did you feel this earthquake too, man?” he asked.

“ _Lance, this wasn’t an earthquake._ ” Pidge came through the speaker, voice cut by static. “ _Hunk and I discovered the tremors are coming from the east wing of the Garrison. That’s the epicenter._ ”

“Then we need to head there at once!” Allura spoke up, exasperated.

“Allura’s right. Hunk, Pidge, meet us there as soon as you can.” Keith said, more order than casual request. He sounded like a leader, and Lance caught himself staring, cheeks burning.

“ _Wait!_ ” Hunk exclaimed, high pitched. Lance wrinkled his nose when the sound hit his ears. He returned the device to Allura, regretting bringing it so close to his face. “ _We might have another problem._ ”

“What?” Keith asked through his teeth, fuming with barely controlled anger.

“ _The Altean pilot… She kind of disappeared.”_

“She _what_?” Allura shrieked beside Lance. He covered his ears with his hands, letting out a curse in Spanish.

A pause.

More static.

Breathing fanned through the speakers.

“ _She is not at the medical ward anymore. She is just… Gone._ ” Pidge said, matter of fact, voice falling flat.

Lance’s eyebrows shot upwards, like a pair of arrows. Next to him, Allura’s face appeared to have lost all of its color, Altean markings no longer shimmered as strong as before, dull and sallow. She parted her lips and Lance thought she might say something, anything, but it was Keith who broke the thick layer of silence that had befallen over them.

“Shit.” he hissed quietly, eyes open wide almost as if he had come to a life altering discovery.

Lance swallowed.

“What is it, Keith?”

“The east wing… That’s where the robeast is being kept.” he said simply.

“The robeast? But what does t —” Lance frowned, trailing off. And then he understood. _That’s it,_ he thought, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand. _Of course, that’s it._ “Oh, _fuck_ , no…”

“We need to go there _now._ ” Allura sounded stern, face somber as her eyes lit up with a sudden clarity.

The ground shook beneath their feet one more time, followed by a distant rumble. The metallic structure clattered, ruptures sprouted across the floor, crawling towards their feet, like the tongues of a famished dragon. The trio of paladins exchanged concerned glances, behind them the Lions roared in unison, yellow eyes glowing bright.

“What was that?” Lance asked, stepping away from one of ruptures, afraid the ground below him would cave in.

A voice came through one of the speakers, barely audible over the static.

“ _It was the robeast. It’s trying to break free._ ” Pidge spoke between puffs of air, sounding breathless.

“Where are you and Hunk? We need to get to our Lions.” Allura demanded.

“ _We’re already on our way. We’ll be there on five doboshes._ ”

Keith gave a curt nod of his head, looking from Lance to Allura.

“Lance, Allura, get inside your Lions and then wait for Pidge and Hunk.” he said, already turning his back at them and stepping away, quickly followed by Acxa and Kosmo, who had disappeared from Lance’s side in a white flare before reappearing at Keith’s feet.

Lance frowned, feeling as strings pulled at his muscles, becoming strained and taut as he observed the back of Keith’s head, covered in a mop of raven, black hair, grow further away.

“Hey, where are you going?” Lance asked, desperation seeping into his tone. At this point, he hardly cared if Keith noticed the dark tendrils of oil spilling from the cracks in his heart.

Keith snapped his head back, indigo eyes melting against blue ones, an invisible line that separated the ocean from the night sky.

“I need to warn Shiro. I’ll be back before you know it.” he said dismissively.

“And why does _she_ have to go with you?”

Lance had narrowed his eyes towards Acxa, also known as Keith’s shadow, a constant presence hovering over his shoulder, following him around day and night. And _no_ , Lance was not jealous. He refused to name the hot, searing rage curling in his core as _jealousy._ But there was something about her that bothered him, a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that lit up imaginary caution signs.

Acxa had the decency to recoil behind Keith, averting her gaze. Keith shook his head, eyebrows furrowed as he gave Lance a flat, brutal answer. Lance was able to hide the way his shoulders flinched, only scarcely.

“I don’t have time for this, Lance. Just go to Red and wait for my call.” he deadpanned, turning to Acxa, who had remained weirdly silent throughout that entire exchange. Lance’s senses sparked. “C’mon, we need to go.”

Keith walked away without sparing him a second glance.

_Turn around, turn around, turn —_

But he didn’t. He never did. Lance should be used to it by now. Keith wasn’t the kind of person to look back over his shoulder. He was always moving forward, no time to dwell on the past. And Lance wanted to follow. He wanted to burn like Keith, _with_ Keith. He wanted, wanted, wanted. But there was ice creeping inside his bones and he was left frozen in place, unable to follow.

“Lance, you heard Keith. We need to get to our Lions.” Allura came up behind him, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Lance nodded, lethargic and numb. His lips drew a grim line across his face as he made his way towards the Red Lion, coming face to face with the mechanical feline after three long strides. Allura moved in the Blue Lion’s direction, seating on the other side of the room.

Red lowered her head at Lance’s approach, guided solely on instinct, and opened her jaw soundlessly. Lance climbed towards the cockpit, quickly changing into his paladin armor before taking his seat at the control panel, glowing a now familiar shade of red. Lance breathed in softly, wishing Keith’s smell would still linger in the cavernous space and that with every breath he took he could fill his lungs with his scent. Lance smiled at Red’s purrs in his ears, vibrating with something akin to understanding.

A few moments later, Lance saw two small figures come inside the hangar, running towards the Green and Yellow Lions. Four of the five paladins were already dutifully inside each of their Lions, dressed in their armors and ready for battle. A screen popped up before Lance’s eyes, flickering with Allura’s face in what appeared to be a private line of conversation.

“Are you sure our earlier conversation won’t be a problem?” she asked.

Lance sighed.

“Yeah, we’ll be able to form Voltron. Don’t worry about that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Lance parroted, followed by an awkward silence. In the screen, Allura chewed nervously on her bottom lip. “If you have something else to tell me, just say it, Allura.”

She hesitated, throat bobbing up and down as she swallowed.

“It’s Keith, isn’t it?” her voice echoed through the Red Lion’s cockpit, sending shivers down Lance’s spine. He sat straighter on his seat, hands freezing on top of the control panel. It took him a few minutes to find his voice.

“What are you talking about?” he whispered, looking down, attempting to move his frozen articulations with no success.

There was a sigh, low and distant and so, _so_ _tired._

“The one I asked you about before we got interrupted by that tremor. It’s Keith, right?” Lance opened his mouth to protest, but Allura cut him short. “Please, don’t try to deny it, Lance. I saw the way you looked at him the moment he chose to leave with Acxa. Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

Lance let out a frustrated groan, burying his face in his hands.

“Am I that obvious? _Dios mío…_ ”

“I’m afraid so, yes.” Allura said. Lance took a glimpse at the screen from behind his fingers, face burning from embarrassment. “Does he know?”

Lance shook his head, putting his hands down and allowing Allura a clear vision of his flustered face.

“No, he doesn’t.” he said. “I’ve only told Shiro. And, well, now you.”

“I see…” Allura hummed, appearing to be deep in thought before spitting out four dreadful words. “You should tell him.”

Lance felt his lips tremble and soon he was cracking up in bubbling laughter, belly aching from how hard the muscles were clenched together, chest heaving from the effort to breathe between chuckles. Allura frowned at him from the screen, clearly confused by the reaction her words had elicited from him.

“What is so funny?” she asked.

“Nothing, really. It’s just… Shiro said the same thing.” Lance replied once the hysteria subsided, drying out the moisture from the ends of his eyes.

Allura nodded solemnly.

“Will you tell him, then?”

“No! I mean, yes — I mean — I — I don’t know, Allura.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Lance sighed, deep and long. “What if he doesn’t say it back? I’m just gonna look stupid and I’ll end up ruining what we already have. I can’t — I can’t lose him, Allura.”

Allura’s eyebrows softened, the angles and lines of her face becoming less severe the longer she stared back at Lance’s pitiful image at the other end of her screen. He wished he had been born with Kosmo’s teleportation powers, so he could disappear at will, especially in moments like this.

“Oh, Lance…” she said gently. Lance looked back at her. “There was an ancient Altean proverb that said that a broken heart would always heal in time, but that unspoken words inflicted the deepest scars.”

A beeping sound resonated through the walls of the Lion’s cockpit, bringing Lance’s attention away from Allura’s painfully kind eyes. In a matter of seconds, Pidge and Hunk’s faces appeared on two different screens. Apparently, Lance and Allura’s private line wasn’t so private anymore. Lance suppressed an annoyed groan.

“Hey, guys!” Hunk chirped in, oblivious to the negatively charged silence hovering in the air. Pidge, however, had noticed, almond shaped eyes narrowing behind thick lenses that covered half of their face.

“Did we interrupt something?” they asked, curiosity dripping from every syllable. Lance stiffened in his seat. It was Allura who spoke first.

“No, of course not. Now, tell us what you two found out about what’s causing the tremors.” she said, changing the subject in a not very subtle way. If Pidge noticed, they chose to ignore it. At least, for now.

“It’s the Altean pilot. She’s trying to awaken the robeast.”

“But how could she even manage to do that? That thing is, like, dead.” Lance asked.

On the screen, Hunk shrugged.

“We don’t know yet. I’m guessing she would need large amounts of quintessence to get it back to work.” he provided.

“Where would she even get that? It’s not like the Garrison runs on quintessence. Besides, we still don’t know what she wants here on Earth or who she’s working for.”

“Allura,” Pidge spoke up, cutting Lance. “Were you able to find out anything that we could use when you talked to her?”

Allura hesitated, opening and closing her mouth, much like a fish out of water. A crease slowly formed between her brows as she thought long and hard, deep in concentration, digging into her memories.

“I don’t remember much, but I was _this_ close to getting out a name from her…”

“A name?”

“Yes, but…” she stopped midsentence, frowning. “I remember grabbing her by the wrist, asking about her master, and then… Everything went black.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Pidge’s glasses glistened under green lights as they pushed them up the bridge of their nose. Lance turned towards their screen. Hunk and Allura did the same. “You touched her? Oh, my God, this explains _everything_!”

Lance frowned.

“Huh, how can this explain anything? I don’t follow, Pidge.” he asked.

“It’s obvious, don’t you see? The moment she touched Allura she siphoned her quintessence, like the robeast did with Voltron, which in turn would explain why Allura passed out and how she is able to awake the robeast now.”

“How is that even possible?” Hunk exclaimed.

“I — I don’t know how she could have managed that, Pidge. I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Allura sounded distraught, wide-eyed and pale. Lance felt a constricting feeling in his chest at the sight of her despair. “Oh, no, this is all my fault. Keith was right. I should have never gotten so close to her, if it wasn’t for me this wouldn’t be happening.”

“Allura, don’t say that. It wasn’t your fault. We all agreed that talking to her was the only alternative.” Lance said, gaining her attention. Watery blue eyes solely focused on him, so unbelievably guilty. “Listen, now that we know what is the problem, we can try to find a solution. We defeated that robeast once, we can do it again.”

Allura nodded, short but sure, and the edges of her mouth curved slightly upwards.

“Guys, I don’t mean to be _that_ person, but last time we had five Lions and now we kinda have only four.” Hunk said, hesitating. “Does anyone know where is Keith?”

“He said he was gonna warn Shiro.” Lance provided, and he thought his voice sounded distant in his own ears. An awful feeling cut through the base of his stomach, leaving him frozen in terror.

“Shouldn’t he be back by now?” Pidge asked, driving the knife deeper into his gut.

“You guys don’t think something happened, right?” Hunk pitched in, unhelpful.

“No, of course not.” Allura said, but Lance noticed the way her eyes flew in his direction, searching for something. Whatever she found caused a small crease to form between her eyebrows. “He’s probably just running late.”

Another shock wave hit the building, ruptures growing bigger and closer to the Lions’ paws. Lance held on tight to the controls, with enough force to turn the knuckles of his fingers white. He gritted his teeth as a second tremor followed suit, stronger than the previous one, sending prolonged vibrations down his arms and legs. A headache was slowly forming and he could feel an insistent throb at the base of his skull, as if someone was hitting him with a sledgehammer.

“We need to do something before this thing destroys the Garrison.” Hunk said, exasperated. “C’mon, guys, we can’t just stay here doing nothing.”

“We can’t! Keith said to wait for his orders, so that’s what we’re gonna do.” Lance intervened, hard and unyielding.

“He can meet with us later, but we have to get out there. _Now._ ”

“No, Hunk! We’re staying here.”

“Lance, listen.” he turned to Allura’s screen, flashing in blue hues. “Hunk is right. We must go, it’s our duty as paladins of Voltron. Keith will join us when he’s ready.”

Something felt terribly wrong at the thought of leaving Keith behind and going into battle without him, their best pilot, their leader, their friend. Lance had tried to voice his concerns to the rest of the team, unsuccessfully. Allura and Hunk were determined to storm into the sky with their Lions, with or without Keith, and Pidge was unsettled about the thought of staying put while a mechanical beast destroyed the only home they had ever known. Lance couldn’t blame them, not really. He knew they were putting their duty above everything else, as a paladin of Voltron _should_ do. But, still, Lance wavered.

In the end, he lost.

The Lions followed Allura’s lead, poised to flight away from the hangar and into Earth’s blue sky. As pilot of the Red Lion, Lance was officially second in the chain of command, but he hardly cared about any of that when the only thought in his mind could be resumed in one single word: _Keith._

_Where are you, Keith?_

Lance wondered as he pulled at the controls, steering Red up, up, up.

* * *

 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Lance muttered under his breath, gridding his teeth together as another laser beam nearly scraped Red.

But Lance was no longer the same cadet pilot he used to be, easily distracted by his own silly aspirations and dreams of grandeur. No. This was no simulation, it was _real_. Any mistake like the ones he usually committed during training sessions and he could end up seriously injured. _Or worse_. He shivered at the thought. Years away in space fighting an intergalactic war would drastically change a person, Lance figured.

He pushed again at Red’s controls, harder than before, and they nosedived across the skies, brushing the arid ground, metal claws leaving a cloud of dust and desert sand in its wake. Red sent Lance a warning in the form of a quiet purr, telling him to be more careful. Contrary to popular belief, they were not indestructible.

“Sorry, Red. But it was either that or turning into a giant kitten toast.” Lance said out loud, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. “Which one do you prefer?”

Red emitted a raspy noise and Lance wondered if that was the equivalent of a scoff in sentient magical robot cat’s language. He chuckled lightly, pulling at the controls to swerve around the gargantuan mechanical beast towering over them. Hunk and Allura hit it with hard and unforgiving blows, but their weapons barely etched a scratch against its gleaming surface. Not even all the Altean magic in the universe would be able to assist them. Lance could feel them growing tired, drained. Their Lions were no match against the robeast individually, too insignificant in comparison. They needed to form Voltron in order to come out triumphant, but for that to happen they needed Keith. And he was nowhere to be found.

“Where the _fuck_ is Keith?” Pidge groaned inside Lance’s helmet through the communication line they had open.

“Pidge, language… But you have a point. He should already be here — _Argh_!”

Allura fell through the skies like a blue shooting star as one of the robeast’s laser beams found its target in the Blue Lion, sending them both spiraling, landing roughly on the ground.

“Allura!” Lance screamed when a cloud of dirt hovered around the site of the impact.

Her voice filled his ears a moment later and he was able to breathe properly once again.

“Blue and I are fine.” she assured them. “We need to form Voltron. We won’t be able to defeat this monster without it.”

“We know that, princess. But to form Voltron we need Keith.” Hunk grumbled, cursing some unintelligible insult after dodging another one of the robeast’s ruthless attacks. “Where _is_ he?”

Lance had been trying to ignore the heavy feeling that had settled in his bones, weighting him down, but it only grew stronger, an all-encompassing force pulling at him, like an iron ball chained to his ankle. He tried calling Keith through the communication line one more time, like he had done countless times before, and was met, once again, with deafening silence.

“He’s not answering.” Lance groaned, tightening his grip on the controls. “Something is not right. He should be here. _Why_ is he not here?”

Lance’s vision was painted red as a surge of blinding, searing rage fueled his veins, swelling up inside him. In one swift movement, he took off his helmet and threw it away, landing with a loud thud in some forgotten corner. Voices erupted from the built-in speakers in muffled notes, words impossible to decipher from afar, their cadence and timbre altogether unknown to Lance’s thrumming ears.

Fire churned in his gut, hot and fervent, leaving him in a feverish state. Lance couldn’t stand it any longer, all the waiting, all the not knowing, all the quiet.

Lance noticed how the robeast had the Red Lion in its sight and he risked a dangerous maneuver to avoid being hit. The robeast took aim and Lance felt his pulse accelerate. A roar echoed from afar, feral and awful.

_Where is Keith?_

Ready.

_Where is he?_

Fire.

_Keith…_

Lance closed his eyes as his entire world swirled beneath his feet, hard and fast. He had both hands wrapped around the controls, holding tightly as he was turned upside down, thrown around like some _piñata_ in a kid’s party. He was vaguely aware of voices calling out his name, a tuneless chorus of _Lance, Lance, Lance._

And then… Nothing.

Something exploded behind his closed eyelids, blazing and luminous. Soft whining reached his ears, followed by the distinct noise of claws dragging along metal. Lance blinked his eyes open, peering through thick lashes.

To his utter surprise and devastating terror, he wasn’t alone in Red’s cockpit anymore. Standing in a corner, laying with its head down between two sets of paws, was Keith’s space wolf.

“Kosmo…”

Lance inhaled sharply.

“ _Lance, come in!_ ”

It took Lance a moment to move from his seat and grab the forgotten helmet, hidden in the shadows. Allura’s voice came out frantically through the speakers, echoed just as fervently by Hunk and Pidge.

“I’m here, guys. W — What just happened?” he brought the helmet closer to his face, but refused to put it back on, afraid he would feel constricted once again. “How did you guys manage to destroy that thing? I’m pretty sure I should be dead by now.”

“We didn’t, actually.” something about Pidge’s tone made Lance shiver. “We were fighting it and then it just… Stopped.”

“But… _How_?”

“Perhaps it ran out of quintessence. Would that be possible, princess?”

“It’s unlikely, Hunk. It must have been something else.” Allura considered. “We should check it out.”

Lance swallowed, taking another glimpse at Kosmo, still lying at his feet, eyes trained on him as if it was trying to tell him something.

“Mm, guys?” he began, unsure. “I think we might have another problem.”

“Oh, no. Not again…” Hunk complained on the other end of the line.

“What is it, Lance?”

“Kosmo is here.” Lance said, and then as an afterthought. “With me.”

“ _Kosmo_? As in Keith’s cosmic wolf? He’s there with you?” Hunk asked, sounding as distraught as Lance felt in that moment. “Didn’t you say Keith had trained it to bite your head off? What is he doing there?”

“I — I don’t know but I think he might be hurt.” Lance managed to keep his voice somewhat stable, despite feeling like he was made entirely of grains of sand, disintegrating under the blow of the wind. “No, no, no. Guys, guys, Kosmo never leaves Keith’s side. If he’s here then something must have happened to Keith. _Fuck_ , we need to go back!”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions yet.” Allura said. Lance huffed, impatient. “Hunk and Pidge, come with me to check out the robeast. Lance, go back to the Garrison and try to find Shiro. He might have more information regarding Keith’s whereabouts.”

Lance didn’t wait for Allura to finish, already turning his Lion around, firing through the skies towards the Garrison, forcing Red’s thrusters to maximum power. _Come on, come on, come on,_ he chanted mentally, as if this insistent makeshift mantra would somehow propel them faster. His knuckles ached, white and rigid, and he could hear the rapid pulse of his heart, blood running wild in his veins. A shadow shifted at his feet and an alien weight settled over his left thigh. Looking down, Lance was met with Kosmo’s navy blue eyes, its damp muzzle rubbing against his elbow, head resting comfortably near his hipbone.

Lance smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He left one of the controls unattended as he splayed his gloved fingers between Kosmo’s wolfish ears, drawing imaginary circles in his thick fur. Lance caught himself releasing a sigh at the same time a soft sniffing reached his ears.

He couldn’t remember landing, all he knew was that Red was now resting on solid ground once again and his fingers worked in a frenzy to unclasp the chains strapping him to the pilot’s seat. Lance exploded out of the chair, kneeling down in front of Kosmo, gripping viciously at the fur on his back.

“Can you take me to him, Kosmo?” he asked. Kosmo tilted his head to the side, regarding Lance with curious, animal eyes. “I need you to take me to Keith.”

White light burst from Kosmo and Lance closed his eyes, hit by a sudden blinding clarity. He felt unseen arms enveloping him, pulling at the strings of his body. When he opened his eyes again, a second later, they were no longer inside the Red Lion.

The hangar, only moments ago filled with five gigantic alien robots, now stood eerily empty. All but for _one_. Lance stormed towards the Black Lion, pulling up short when his eyes landed on Keith’s Marmoran blade, seating neglected beside a huge metallic claw. Next to it was a paladin’s bayard, painted in the same matted shade of black, just as equally forgotten against the cold ground.

_No._

Lance breathed out, no more than a gasp.

It was like Earth had tipped to the side, off-center, out of its natural orbit, drawn by another celestial body’s gravitational pull. Lance felt his knees give out beneath him, headed for collision, and then he was falling at high speed, an unstoppable force.

The impact didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. Nothing but a dull ache crawling deep into his bones, microscopic vibrations dissipating in the form of a pressing buzz in his ears, throwing him out of his own alignment until he was lost into a silent void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the plot thickens...  
> What are you thinking of the story so far? And what do you think will happen next? I can't wait to read your thoughts on the comments haha


	4. part iv - i loved and i loved and i lost you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m bringing you back, Keith. No matter where you are, I will find you.” Lance swore under the stars, an oath sealed on blood and tears. “I will bring you home.”  
> Back to Earth.  
> Back to your family.  
> Back to me.  
> Lance would bring entire cities to the ground — to perish under the flames, reduced to ashes and ruins —, if it meant he could see that true smile one more time, as warm and as bright as the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New update! Yay! The title of this chapter comes from Fleurie's song 'Hurts Like Hell' (one of my all time favorite songs kfjdkf) and now to the important things... 
> 
> *WARNING*
> 
> Lance accidentally hurts himself in the beginning of this chapter. It's unintentional and there are some descriptions of blood and stitches. Nothing too heavy, but if this kind of thing makes you uncomfortable then jump to the part Lance is out of the med bay with Veronica. Sorry for any inconveniences... But things will get a bit heavier from now on. Just a heads up.
> 
> Enjoy this monster of a chapter... I got a bit carried away with it... Oops

**part iv**

**i loved and i loved and i lost you**

* * *

_Your heart fits like a key_

_Into the lock on the wall_

_I turn it over, I turn it over_

_But I can’t escape_

_I turn it over, I turn it over_

* * *

 

Keith is _gone._

The realization cut mercilessly through Lance, ripping his heart to shreds. The wild animal living inside him pushed harder, shoving at his ribcage and scraping at the bones, relentless in its desire to get out. Ferocious, sharp claws dig deep into soft skin, tearing him wide open.

_Gone, gone, gone._

Something cold weighted down in his hands, something heavy he couldn’t remember ever picking up. He held on to it, hard. His memories were hazy, no more than a collection of blurred images and distant sounds. Where was he? Where was _Keith_? His fingers tightened around the sharpness — like cut-glass —, and fire licked his arm, a burning sensation that crawled under his skin. Lance hissed from the surge of searing pain, snapping his head down, where his knees were still glued to the concrete floor. And there laid Keith’s Marmoran blade, between limp fingers, bathed in a viscous liquid. A guttering gasp escaped his lips the moment his eyes caught sight of the blood.

So much blood.

_His blood._

It flowed freely from the palms of his hands in scarlet rivulets, glistening under the eerie purple glow coming from the Galran markings etched on the hilt of the blade. Lance followed the awful current with his eyes, the continuous dripping of ruby tears, smearing his paladin armor in dark bursts of color, painting a terrible vision.

Soft fur brushed against the side of his face and neck. From the corner of his eye, Lance had a glimpse of Kosmo’s snout, head resting comfortably over his shoulder. He heard a quiet, animalistic whine leave the back of his throat as small eyes fell on the pool of blood widening before them. The dagger slid from his loose grip, clattering on the ground with a loud thud. The metal stilled and the noise faded, along with everything else.

“Lance? Lance, is that you?”

Lance’s shoulders stiffened in response to a familiar voice calling out his name, the muscles in his neck becoming taut. He lifted his head in an awfully slow pace, blinking his eyes at the chiseled face hovering above him, devastatingly beautiful despite the scar running horizontally across the bridge of his nose, a halo of silvery white hair crowning the top of his head.

Lance choked on his own breath, barely recognizing his own voice as it reached his ears, thick and raspy.

Shiro regarded him with a concerned furrow of his brows, studying him carefully, meticulously. His eyes widened in horror at the sight of blood. A sky dotted with gray clouds, darkening at the edge of a storm. He stared at Lance’s face, searching for traces of any lingering pain or barely concealed distraught. But he found nothing. Lance was a blank canvas, devoid of emotion. Or perhaps too full. He didn’t know anymore.

“Lance, are you hurt? What happened?” Shiro asked, kneeling down next to an impossibly still Lance. The silence lingered. He rested a hand on Lance’s shoulder, applying a small pressure. “Lance, can you hear me? Say something.”

He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t find the words. Instead, he simply nodded, a small movement of the head, enough to dissipate some of Shiro’s concern, but only barely.

“Tell me what happened. I contacted Allura and she told me you were headed back to the Garrison, that you were looking for Keith.” Shiro sighed, posture deflating. “And now I found you covered in blood. Why was Keith not there with you guys? What is going on?”

And then Lance is shaking his head and his body is sagging, thrown off-kilter, as if the strings holding him together had been abruptly cut. The only thing preventing him from a fatal encounter with the cold ground were Shiro’s hands, strong and safe and warm. Lance closed his eyes and in those brief moments he saw his own heart. Beating, battered, _bleeding_. Shattered to pieces across the floor. His mouth moved without his consent, releasing a desperate stream of cries. His voice reverberated through the nearly empty hangar, echoing in sorrowful notes.

_He’s not here, Shiro._

_He’s not —_

_He’s gone._

_Gone._

_Gone._

_Gone._

Shiro exhaled a resounding _“Lance”_ , the sound leaving his lips and meeting Lance’s ears in a gust of air, barely grazing the soft skin of his earlobe. Lance knew he probably looked and sounded rather pathetic, but he couldn’t find the strength within himself to care. Nothing mattered. Not anymore. Not without Keith.

“C’mon, Lance. I’m gonna take you to the medical ward so a doctor can take a look at your hands and then we’ll figure this out. I’ll call the others on the way.” Shiro said in a low tone meant to be comforting, Lance knew. “Is that okay with you?”

“… Find him.” Lance mumbled, no more than a whisper. “We have to find him, Shiro. We have to…”

“We’ll find him, Lance.” Shiro murmured soothingly, reassuring.

Lance buried his fingers in Shiro’s arm, hard enough to leave yellow bruises once the pressure was relieved. But Shiro didn’t complain. He only smiled, gesture too small to reach his eyes, and gave Lance a firm nod.

“Do you promise?”

A sigh.

A question.

A plea.

Shiro’s expression took on a more solemn tone, gray eyes that resembled steel trained solely on Lance, whose vision had become blurred at the edges, plagued with tears, a miniature ocean that spilled carelessly from the horizon, tasting bitter on chapped lips.

“I promise, Lance. We _will_ find Keith.” Shiro said and Lance believed him. He had to. The alternative was simply too painful, too heavy to bear. “But first, we need to take care of you. Can you stand? Were you injured anywhere else?”

Lance shook his head, biting down his lip to prevent a pain-stricken noise from escaping the back of his throat as he was forced to move his maimed hands. Shiro assisted him getting back on his feet, positioning a human arm over his shoulders and circling his waist with the mechanical one, propelling Lance upwards with barely any effort.

“There you go, c’mon. We’ll get you feeling better in no time.”

_No, you won’t._

Lance wanted to say, but he remained quiet. No good could come from defying Shiro’s blind optimism, and besides, he was tired. Exhausted, really. He felt boneless, molten, and he wondered if he would be able to stand were not for Shiro’s strong hold on him. _Probably not_ , came as an afterthought.

Lance was a heavy weight to carry, dragging his feet across the corridors as Shiro pulled him along, secured at his side. He was careful not to move his hands too abruptly, afraid he might worsen the already fragile state of his blood smeared palms. At least, the blood had stopped oozing from the gashes, drying out all over tanned skin, painting it in a darker shade of crimson. Lance could barely stand the sight, looking away not after too long.

Kosmo bumped his muzzle against his calf, reminding Lance he was still there, still dutifully following him. A loyal protector. And Lance couldn’t help but wonder what could have possibly come to pass for Keith to be separated from his cosmic wolf. It must have been something terrible, awful enough to pull them apart. Lance’s stomach plummeted down, down, down.

Lance swallowed the bile threatening to climb his throat as they approached the medical ward. He had always despised hospitals, with their blank walls, obnoxious beeping mechanisms and sharp needles. The smell of disinfectant hit his nostrils deep and hard as soon as he set foot in there. It bustled with activity as nurses and doctors came and went, checking up on the various patients crowding the countless rooms, hands busy with bandages and several amounts of medicine.

“Wait here, Lance. I’ll go get someone to take a look at your hands.” Shiro said as he repositioned him on one of the infirmary beds. Kosmo was a permanent presence at his side, always vigilant.

Lance did as he was told.

He waited, patiently, observing the somehow organized chaos that surrounded him, listening to the distant sounds and echoes of doors opening and closing. At some point, he had closed his eyes, allowing the exhaustion plaguing his limbs to take him over. Lance felt himself under a thick blanket made of shadows and yet he felt strangely cold.

“Lance? Lance, open your eyes.”

A voice called and Lance peered through dark eyelashes, coming across Shiro’s familiar face. There was someone else behind him, dressed in white garments from head to toe. He frowned, unable to place the woman’s face anywhere in his memory.

“This is Nora. She’s a nurse.” Shiro motioned towards his back, clearing some of the confusion lurking around Lance’s head.

_Oh._

Nora stepped forward, giving Lance a standard smile meant to comfort. He remained awfully still, just seating there with a blank look on his face. Perhaps he was in shock. Perhaps that was the reason for his heart to beat slower, for his feelings to have vanished, like smoke blown away by a gust of wind.

“Hello, Lance. Can I see your hands, please?” she asked politely.

Lance nodded, not really paying attention to what was being said and done. He stretched out both hands, fingers splayed and palms turned upwards, as the nurse — Nora — inspected his fresh bruises. Her fingers traced careful patterns, ghost touches. Eyes narrowed, looking closely at the mess of ripped skin and tore flesh, coated in dry blood.

“How bad is it?” Shiro asked, a stoic figure standing at the side of the bed with arms crossed and brows furrowed.

“It looks worse than what it is. But he’ll definitely be needing stitches.” she said. “Those are some deep cuts. How did it happen?”

Shiro shrugged.

“I’m not sure. He hasn’t told me.”

Nora hummed softly as her eyes probed at Lance’s hands a moment longer before settling them gently above his thighs, turning around to gather her medical tools, resting on a small table nearby.

“Well, don’t worry, the worst is already over.” her eyes fell on Kosmo, nested at the foot of the bed. She hesitated, pursing her lips together into a thin line. “I’m afraid your… Dog won’t be allowed in here during the procedure. If you were kind enough to take him out —”

“No.” Lance blurted out. “He stays.”

Two pairs of eyes landed on Lance, brows raised skeptically as they studied his face, built on severe angles and firm lines, adorned by cruel blue eyes and grim lips. He stared back at them, unrelenting, lifting his chin in silent defiance.

“Lance, this is not the place —”

“Kosmo stays here. With me.” Lance said shortly, interrupting Shiro, who blinked in response. “I can’t —”

_I can’t lose him too_ , he continued mentally. But the words got stuck in his throat, forming an invisible, uncomfortable knot, impossible to swallow.

Nora and Shiro exchanged a look, long and heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Shiro let out a resigned sigh, taking one last glance at Lance, who still sat there, eyes blazing with blue fire.

“Let him stay and we’ll be out of here as soon as you’re done stitching him.” Shiro offered, but upon seeing the reluctance in Nora’s chocolate brown eyes, he rushed to add. “I’ll take full responsibility over him. You have my word.”

That, somehow, managed to appease the nurse, whose shoulders sagged in clear surrender, the wrinkles softening on her creased forehead. Lance wondered if she had allowed them to break protocol simply because of his paladin status, or if it had been because of Shiro, who was now occupying the position of captain of the IGF-Atlas. Maybe she thought she was supposed to follow her superior’s orders, when in reality all she was doing was a favor, allowing the space wolf to remain at Lance’s side. He couldn’t bear the thought of parting with him, the closest thing he had to Keith at the moment.

“Very well. The dog can stay.” Nora said, eventually.

Kosmo barked once, on cue, almost as if he could understand what was being said about him, wagging his tail contently from side to side. Lance smirked down at him.

And then Nora began her work, releasing Lance of the armor placed on his arms and cutting through his paladin under suit with a pair of scissors, exposing a large patch of tanned skin to the cold air conditioning of the room. The hairs dotting his arms stood all on end, suddenly hit by the artificial breeze. A shiver ran down his spine.

Lance watched as Nora cleaned the bloody mess on his hands with careful, calculated movements, gently applying the antiseptic. He flinched slightly, wrinkling his nose as a burning sensation flared up his senses. He focused on the pain, the only thing that felt real. His eyes followed the nurse’s hands as she wielded needle and thread, closing the ugly gashes running across the palms of his hands, tearing golden-brown skin apart. Lance relished on that old, familiar sting.

And then it was over.

The blood was nothing but a ghastly memory, replaced by two sets of matching dark stitches, a stark contrast against the lighter shade of his skin tone. Lance tilted his head to the side as he regarded the palms of his hands with analytical eyes. It would definitely scar, he didn’t need a nurse telling him that to know. A pair of twin pale lines forever imprinted on thin, frail skin. A reminder of all he had lost, all he would never have.

“There you go.” Nora said once she was done bandaging his hands. “You’ll experience some pain in the next couple days, so try to take things slow at first. I’ll be prescribing you some painkillers, but be careful not to overdo. They can be pretty addictive, if taken in large doses.”

Lance gave her a curt nod, too numb to do anything else.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the nurse angling her body towards Shiro, having given up on any other attempts to get through to him. Lance couldn’t have cared less.

“Please, make sure he comes back in a few days to remove the stitches.” she said.

“I will. Don’t worry.”

“Well, I’m afraid that is all. You’re free to go now, Lance.”

Nora placed a hand on his arm, but there was no reaction, not even the smallest indication that he had felt her touch, so she retreated with a sigh.

Lance heard the distinct sound of the door whooshing shut and then they were graced with silence.

But it didn’t last long.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened. I think I have a pretty good idea of how you ended up with those cuts.” Shiro began, breaking that fragile peace. Lance lifted his head, catching Shiro’s gaze with his own. “But the others will probably be here soon and they’ll ask questions. What should I tell them, Lance?”

“Tell them whatever you like. I don’t care.” Lance replied, voice falling flat in his own ears.

“Lance, don’t be like this…”

“Like what, Shiro?”

“We’re going to find him.” Shiro said. Lance gulped loudly. “We won’t stop until we find Keith. You need to have faith, Lance.”

Lance wanted to laugh, but he managed to suppress the urge, chewing on his bottom lip instead. _Faith_. He had lost that long ago. Before he was flung out to space. Before he became a paladin. Before… When he was only _Lance_ , a mere cargo pilot, chasing after an unattainable dream.

_You need to have faith._

In that moment, the automatic doors burst open and a tall, slim figure stormed in. Long limbs flailed and her head appeared to be adorned by a crown of dark, short curls that bobbed up and down after every step. Lance had a quick glimpse above Shiro’s shoulder when a high-pitched squeal left the woman’s lips.

Lance inhaled sharply. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

“Ronnie?” he whispered.

A pair of McClain eyes landed on him and it felt like he was staring at his own image reflected upon the most translucent of waters, a Cuban sea gleaming under rays of sunlight. Veronica swallowed the words she had been about to spill, staring long and hard at Lance, brows furrowing. And then she was breaking, like a thunderstorm. Ravenous and furious.

“ _Lance_? What on God’s name are you doing at the medical ward?” she demanded. Lance parted his lips to reply, but he was interrupted before he could get the words out when her eyes fell on the bandages. “Did you get hurt? _Dios mío, que pasó_? You better tell me what happened, Lance, or I swear to —”

“I’m fine, Ronnie.” Lance said with a dismissive wave of his wrist.

Veronica narrowed her eyes back at him, approaching the infirmary bed in three long strides. She took Lance’s hands in her own, inspecting the thick layers of cloth around his hands. Lance hissed in pain when she applied too much pressure on his wounds, recent enough to still feel tender. He pulled away harshly, escaping her iron grip.

“I said _I’m fine_!” he exclaimed, hiding his hands between his thighs and looking away. “Just let it go.”

“But —”

“Veronica, he’s fine.” Shiro cut in, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It wasn’t anything serious. You have nothing to worry about.”

Veronica seemed reluctant, shoulders stiff as she oscillated her eyes between them. Lance was prepared to protest one more time when he noticed her lips part. But it was Shiro’s voice that reached his ears, clear as thunder rumbling over his head, a storm upon him.

“You didn’t come here for Lance, did you?” he asked. Veronica sighed, shaking her head. “Then what is it? Do you have any news from what happened at the east wing?”

“No, that’s not…” she paused. “I was accounting the fighting ships when I noticed one of them was missing. I checked the data filed in the computer, but there was nothing saved at the history.”

Shiro frowned, arms that had been crossed tightly against his chest only a moment ago now fell limp at the sides of his body.

“That’s strange. Are you sure it wasn’t stored somewhere else by mistake?”

“Positive.” Veronica said firmly. Shiro’s frown deepened. “There is something else, Shiro.”

“What is it?”

Shiro pressed when Veronica remained quiet. Lance noticed how the muscles on his sister’s face were pulled taut, jaw clenched as if she was gridding her teeth. A crease slowly crept its way between his brows.

“One of the tripulants is missing.”

Shiro sighed in apparent relief, but a strange prickling sensation pierced Lance’s chest, imbuing his core with the same dreadful feeling he felt whenever he woke up from a particularly horrible nightmare. A bad omen.

“Yes, we are aware that Keith is missing.”

“Wait, Keith is missing too?” she asked, eyes widening in visible panic.

“What do you mean _too_? Who else is missing, Veronica?”

“I wasn’t talking about Keith.” Veronica said, continuing after a painfully long heartbeat. “It’s Acxa. She was supposed to come find me at the cafeteria, but the tremors happened and… She never showed up. I can’t find her anywhere.”

Lance blinked, drinking in Veronica’s words and swallowing the bitter taste they left on his tongue.

“Acxa is missing?” Shiro echoed.

“No.” Lance blurted out rather eloquently, gathering the attention of two pairs of eyes, now solely focused on him, alight with confusion. “No, no, _no._ ”

“Lance, what is it?”

It was Veronica who asked, her sisterly concern dripping from each syllable. Lance didn’t meet her eyes, afraid of what he might find swimming in them. He jumped out of the bed, the pain no more than a distant memory. He invaded Shiro’s personal space, breaking through an invisible barrier, holding him down by the lapels of his uniform. He needed to make him _listen_. He needed to make him _understand_.

Or everything would be lost.

_Keith_ would be lost.

“It was her, Shiro. It was Acxa.” Lance said in a frenzy, knuckles turning a disturbing shade of white as he dug his fingers deeper into Shiro’s solid chest, hard enough to bruise. “She was the one who took Keith. It was _her_. I know it.”

Shiro placed his hands on top of Lance’s, trying to pry his fingers away from his uniform with no success. Lance only pulled harder, more determined, desperate to make Shiro see what he had seen.

“Shiro, please, listen to me.” he begged, voice cracking at the end of every word, coming out raspy from the effort. “It was Acxa. She must have tricked Keith somehow. It wouldn’t be difficult. He trusted her…” Lance closed his eyes with force, a shuddering breath escaping his trembling lips. “He trusted her and she betrayed him. She betrayed all of us.”

“Lance, you don’t know that.”

“Just do the math, Ronnie.” Lance snapped his head towards her, sounding harsh. “Keith and Acxa went both missing during the tremors, and now you find out one of the fighting ships is unaccounted for.”

“No, there must be another explanation.” Veronica murmured, eyes becoming unmistakably glossy behind the thick lenses of her glasses. “Acxa wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t betray us. She’s changed.”

“Open your eyes, Veronica.”

Veronica lifted her head slowly, meeting Lance’s unforgiving gaze. She appeared to be on the verge of tears. Lance thought her face should be glistening by now if she had allowed them to fall.

“She was my friend. I thought…” a frustrated noise erupted from the back of her throat. “God, I was so stupid! How could I have been so careless?”

“Don’t blame yourself, Veronica. We all believed her.” Shiro said. “If she was able to get close enough to betray us it was because we allowed her to. All of us.”

“We were wrong. We were _so wrong_.” Lance grumbled somberly. “And now Keith is gone.”

The thought tore a hole in Lance’s chest, filling it with a never-ending, all-consuming darkness. He felt almost as if he was disappearing in plain sight.

“You’re looking awfully pale, Lance. Maybe it’s best if you take some time to rest.” Shiro said in that fatherly tone of his, leaving barely any room for discussion. “You lost a lot of blood. Go to your room, take your medicine and _rest_. We’ll figure out our next step once you’re feeling better.”

Lance shook his head vigorously.

“But, Shiro, there is no time!”

“Lance, this is not a request.” he said dryly, resolute. “Go to your room. I’ll update the paladins and we’ll discuss our course of action later. Do you understand?”

Lance clenched his jaw, staring back at Shiro’s steely gaze in sheer defiance.

“Lance, do you understand?” Shiro repeated, harder than before.

“Fine!” Lance nearly growled in response. “ _Fine_.”

“Veronica, take Lance to his room and make sure he stays there.”

Shiro spoke to her but his eyes were trained on Lance, as if challenging him to defy his orders. Lance knew he had lost this battle before it had even begun. Next to him, Veronica nodded.

“Here.” Shiro placed a small vial on one of her hands. “He needs to take one of these at every eight hours. It will help with the pain.”

They exchanged quick goodbyes and then Shiro was running toward the automatic doors, disappearing from Lance’s line of sight with nothing but a hissing sound. Lance could feel something akin to anger searing deep inside him, spreading like wildfire through his veins. But Veronica’s cold touch diminished the flames, turning them into tiny sparks, embers that refused to die even when there was not enough oxygen left. Lance thought that perhaps he understood now what it felt like to be the paladin of the Red Lion, guardian spirit of immortal fire.

“You heard the man, let’s take you to your room.” Veronica said as she pulled Lance along. Kosmo trailed silently behind. “Do you wanna tell me what happened? I know it wasn’t during battle because I was monitoring you out there and you never suffered damage strong enough to cause _this_.”

“It was an accident. That’s all.” Lance said shortly.

Veronica lifted an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“Oh, really? You expect me to believe that?” she asked, but Lance didn’t bother to grant her with an answer. He simply stared ahead, eyes focused on the end of the corridor. “Fine. You don’t wanna talk about it, I get it. You just lost a teammate, that’s rough. But you need to take care of yourself, Lance.”

“Keith was more than just a teammate.” he said through clenched teeth.

Veronica slowed her frantic pace, looking back at Lance with new-found interest. Something in the tone he had used had picked up at her curiosity. Lance cursed himself mentally for being so transparent, for allowing his emotions to take charge, to control him.

“He’s the one who went to _mamá_ ’s house the other day, right?” Lance nodded, lips pursed into a grim line. “I didn’t know you two were so close.”

“That’s because we’re not.”

“Are you sure?” Lance frowned at Veronica’s question, taken aback by the meaning behind her words. She pointed at Kosmo, a constant presence at Lance’s side ever since he had first exited the Red Lion. “That’s his dog, isn’t it? I see him following Keith around the Garrison all the time.”

“It’s a space wolf, actually.” Lance mumbled.

“Well,” Veronica began, a ghost of a smile haunting the edge of her mouth. “What is he doing with you?”

Lance shrugged, sparing Kosmo a glimpse before turning back to his sister, who eyed him expectantly.

“I don’t know. I think…” Lance felt the hard lines of his face softening and something too small to be a smile crept up its way into his lips. “I think he’s protecting me.”

Veronica nodded and then she stopped walking altogether. Lance nearly collided against her, but he managed to refrain himself at the last moment.

“We’re here.”

Lance faced the now familiar set of doors that led to his quarters for a while longer than necessary, mind drifting, thoughts afloat. He came down from his stupor soon afterwards, sending Veronica a brief glance and mouthing a quiet goodbye.

The sound of the doors closing behind his back brought a new-found sense of tranquility. Lance hadn’t realized how tense he was until he felt his muscles releasing the weight, shoulders sagging, limbs loose. He practically collapsed onto his bed after undoing the clasps of the remaining pieces of armor he still wore, as if his body was too heavy for him to hold it in a standing position.

“Don’t forget to take your medicine.”

Veronica’s voice made Lance open his eyes wide, taken abruptly by surprise at the sight of his sister standing nearby the door with her arms crossed in front of her chest, giving no indication that she would be leaving any time soon.

“Ronnie, what are you still doing here?”

“I’m taking care of my little brother and making sure you don’t disobey Shiro’s orders.” she said naturally, joining Lance at the edge of the bed, arms brushing as they sat side by side.

Lance huffed.

“I don’t need a babysitter. I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly that’s not true.” Veronica retorted with a snort. “Now, take your medicine and get some rest.”

Lance eyed the blue pill Veronica had placed on the palm of his hand, hesitating before throwing it down his throat, swallowing it dry. Lance wrinkled his nose in disgust as a sickly-sweet taste invaded his mouth. Veronica tried and failed to disguise the smile on her face.

An awkward silence filled the space between them.

Lance shifted with a sudden discomfort, some of the tension from earlier slipping back through the cracks of his imaginary armor.

He cleared his throat before speaking.

“Sorry about what I said at the med bay.” he paused, avoiding any direct eye contact with Veronica. “About Acxa. I can see that she’s important to you and I shouldn’t have… I was just angry and I needed someone to blame. I’m sorry, Ronnie.”

Lance felt the mattress move under the weight of Veronica’s body as she crawled further on top of the bed, resting her back against the wall. She had her eyes downcast, staring at her clasped hands.

“You were right, though.” she murmured, sounding embarrassed. “It was incredibly foolish of me to trust her. I should have known better.”

Lance caught himself shaking his head then, but he wasn’t entirely certain of the reason behind it until he heard the words leaving his mouth.

“You wanted to believe that she was capable of change. It’s what you do, Ronnie.” Veronica lifted her eyes to meet his. “I would be lying if I told you the same thing hasn’t happened to me before. It’s a McClain thing, I guess. We’re always looking for the best in people.”

A sigh, barely audible if it wasn’t for the crushing silence inside those four walls.

“I guess you’re right.”

A pause and then —

“Come here, Lance.”

And he did.

He nested himself in his sister’s open arms, burying his head on her chest and fisting the gray fabric of her uniform between his fingers. He ignored the pain and focused only on the sound of her heartbeat, calm and collected and so unlike his. Veronica had always been a sea breeze, peaceful. She was never too much, just the right amount. But Lance was something else entirely. He was a tropical storm, a hurricane that destroyed everything that crossed his path. Out of control, _too much_. Always too damn much.

Lance hadn’t noticed the sobs until his face was already drenched in salty tears and his chest heaved with suffocated cries. Veronica sank her fingers in those short strands of dark, brown hair, drawing gentle circles on his scalp.

Lance cried.

He broke.

He crumbled.

He fell to pieces.

But Veronica was there to catch him this time.

“Lance, are you crying?” her voice was low, and yet it resonated in his head like bells.

“No.” Lance choked out, followed by a loud sniff.

“ _Lance_.”

He buried his face deeper against her chest, forbidding her to see the truth tainting his features, a disastrous oil spill. But it was too late and the damage had already been done. Lance was nothing but pain and sorrow. The time for putting on masks had come and gone. And he had lost.

“I lost him, Ronnie.” Lance murmured in between trembling breaths and loud sobs. “He’s gone now and I didn’t even have the chance to tell him how I really feel.”

Veronica’s fingers stilled on top of his head and Lance felt like his body had been dipped in a bathtub filled with ice cubes, freezing him to the bones.

“Lance, look at me.” she said after a moment. There was no kindness to her voice, as it was meant to be a demand. Lance obliged. “We _will_ find Keith and you _will_ have your chance.”

Lance wanted to nod, to say something. But his voice got stuck somewhere along his throat. In the end, all he could do was cry. He could hear his mother’s voice echoing in his head, telling him that he was being cleansed by the tears, purified, reborn. And he might have believed her someday, but now the only thing he knew was pain. The soul-crushing, heart-wrenching kind of pain. The pain that left the ugliest scars, the hardest wounds to heal.

He ached.

Veronica had her arms around him, wrapping him in a warm cocoon of skin. Kosmo had climbed over the bed at some point during his mental breakdown, laying at his back. A sign of comfort or protection, Lance wasn’t sure.

And still he ached.

Until the medicine began to take effect and sleep finally took him in its arms.

* * *

 

Lance woke up in excruciating pain.

There was a persistent throb hammering the back of his head, echoing against the cavernous space inside his skull. It reverberated with every heartbeat, growing stronger, harder, sharper. It was as if a knife had been buried in his head and an invisible force pushed it deeper inside, tearing through flesh and bone alike. Lance pressed two of his fingers against his temple, a feeble attempt at dulling the ache. An irritated growl escaped past his unattended lips.

His hands were burning.

Lance looked down at them, turning the palms upwards as he took a closer look at the pair of twin bandages surrounding his damaged skin. Lance remembered now what had happened. Bits and pieces of lost information flooded his brain, like the furious torrent of a river during a particularly bad storm.

He had Keith’s Marmoran dagger in his hands. He held it close to his heart with too much force and the luxite blade, sharp as cut-glass, ripped apart the sensitive skin there. Blood rained down on the gray, concrete ground. It tainted his paladin armor and drenched his under suit. His vision had been painted an angry, dark shade of red.

_Red, red, red._

Everywhere.

Lance blinked away the dreadful images flashing behind closed eyelids, leaving those memories to rot in some forgotten corner of his mind. And, then, when he finally gathered the courage to open his eyes again, all he saw was white. Immaculate and pale. On the walls, on the floor, on the sheets, on the bandages covering the dark stitches hiding underneath.

Lance flexed his fingers, slow and collected movements, testing his sore articulations. A sting bloomed at the palm of his hands. Acid coiled under his skin, spreading at a rapid pace, crawling up, up, up, towards his arms.

“You’re awake.”

Veronica’s voice filled the room, cutting through the thick curtain of silence that separated them. Lance looked up, meeting her gaze. She was seated across from him, back resting against the wall, knee bent, brought close to her chest. Her eyes appeared darker under the dimly illuminated room, protected behind a pair of lenses.

“How long was I asleep for?”

“Eight hours, give or take.”

“ _Eight_ hours?” Lance nearly screamed, voice rising a couple octaves, eyes widening with horror.

Veronica simply nodded, seemingly unfazed by the small outburst. Lance cursed under his breath, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He immediately regretted the action, remembering the stitches adorning his hands, closing the ugly, deep gashes he had accidentally inflicted upon himself. Lance buried his front teeth on the plump skin of his bottom lip, suppressing a pain-stricken cry.

“Does it hurt?” Veronica asked from across the room.

“What?” Lance breathed out, feeling momentarily lost.

His mind was still caught in a twisted sort of frenzy, enveloped under a cloud of gray smoke. It smothered his senses, slowing his train of thought. Lance furrowed his brows, digesting his sister’s last words, trying to gather their meaning. He didn’t know if she was talking about his hands or about his heart. He was no longer sure about anything. But it hardly mattered when the answer to both was the same.

_Yes_ , he thought bitterly. _Yes, it hurts_.

“Your hands, Lance.” Veronica clarified upon seeing the confused expression on his face. Lance blinked a couple of times. “Does it hurt?”

Lance swallowed with some difficulty. His mouth was terribly dry, his throat hoarse, almost as if its walls had been covered with sandpaper. It took Lance a while longer to find his voice, chapped lips parting slightly.

“Yeah, a little bit.”

Veronica hummed, mulling at Lance’s response.

“Well,” she began, taking a quick glance at the watch resting on her wrist. “I suppose it’s time for you to take your medicine again.”

Lance’s eyes followed her movements as she stood from the floor, walking with purpose to the nightstand, where a small vial filled with blue pills rested next to an untouched bottle of water. She gathered both in her hands and made her way towards the bed, seating at the edge of the mattress.

“C’mon, drink it.” she said. “It will make you feel better.”

Lance doubted it, but he took the pill anyway, adjusting himself to a seating position before swallowing it with the assistance of a long gulp of water. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a bushy tail and a pair of wolfish ears. Lance felt his lips move before the thought had time to fully compute in his brain.

“Kosmo is still here.” he whispered the words, not sure if he meant for his sister to hear them. But she did.

“Yeah, he stayed here all day long. He didn’t leave the side of your bed, not once.” she said, taking a look at the space wolf comfortably nested at her feet and giving a smile of her own.

Lance felt something warm and amorphous fill the hollow inside his chest, setting his heart ablaze in a frantic rhythm, about to combust. He wondered if all the blood in his veins had turned into fire.

“Have you heard anything from…” Lance gulped, meeting Veronica’s eyes behind the thick veil of his eyelashes.

Veronica sighed, shaking her head.

“Nothing.” her voice was low, tone careful as if afraid it might break some fragile porcelain doll. Was that all that Lance was now? Something on the verge of breaking? “We’re still trying to figure out how they managed to escape without being seen. There’s nothing on the computer logs and the files all appear to have been untouched.”

“What about the Altean pilot?”

“Allura is interrogating her as we speak.”

“I should be there.” he hissed through his teeth.

Lance inhaled sharply as something dark and monstrous coiled at the base of his stomach, the fire burned brighter in his bloodstream. He felt his temperature rising. Veronica must have noticed something change in his face; a twitch of his lips, a deep crease between his brows. Whatever it was, it had elicited the desire to reach out a hand, touching the coarse material of Lance’s bandages.

“I will take you there, Lance.” Veronica said, holding Lance’s hand tighter. “But first, you need to take a shower and get changed. How does that sound?”

It sounded like a waste of time, Lance thought. He nodded instead, struggling to keep the flames caged within him. But his resolve was melting away, dripping with each step he took towards the bathroom, boiling as cold water poured hard over his shoulder blades. His ears were filled with a hissing sound, his hands trembled at the sides of his naked body. Veronica had wrapped them in a makeshift barrier of plastic bags and scotch tape, so they would remain untouched by the water. _Doctor’s orders_ , she had explained when Lance lifted a questioning eyebrow.

Lance threw his neck back, feeling the water beating against his skull. He closed his eyes and took his hands to his hair, frowning in annoyance when he remembered the bags. Lance refused Veronica’s help when she called out from the other side of the door. He felt weak and vulnerable enough as it was. Somehow, he managed to wash his body all on his own. It might have taken twice as long as it usually did, but at least he was efficiently clean.

Lance stepped out of the shower and wound a towel around his waist, a small pool of water gathering around his feet. He scrubbed himself dry with careful movements, afraid he might worsen his injuries. With some difficulty, he was able to strip his hands from the dripping bags, letting out a sigh of relief.

Dressing up was another challenge. Now free of the bags, his fingers felt unstable as he tried to button down his uniform. Lance let out a sharp hiss in frustration and a moment later Veronica materialized behind him, her reflection joining his in the bathroom mirror. He sent her an annoyed look, but she shrugged it off, rolling her eyes.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” she said as she moved to stand in front of him, brushing his hands away from the uniform. “Don’t you remember when you were little and _mamá_ asked me to help you get ready for school?”

“I was a kid, Veronica.” Lance grumbled. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve grown up since then.”

Veronica let out a loud snort, fingers working fast and agile on his uniform, buttoning him up in record time. She gave Lance two small taps on his chest once she was done, a large smile illuminating her features.

“You’re still my little brother, Lancey. That will never change.”

Lance chewed on his bottom lip nervously, glancing up at Veronica.

“I haven’t heard that in a while.” he whispered.

Veronica’s smile widened a fraction. Lance tried to mirror her expression, but the gesture felt wrong on his lips, an intruder that did not belong there. It hardly felt real. It lacked… _Something._

Veronica traced gentle fingers along the stitches on Lance’s hands, seeing the full extent of his wounds for the first time. He noticed the small tremor that ran through her shoulders as her eyes followed the pattern made by the black thread.

“It’s going to scar.” she pointed out.

“I know.”

“ _Jesus_ , Lance. How did this happen?”

Lance breathed in, trying to find his mental footing. But he kept on falling. Apparently, all he did since the day he met Keith was _fall_. Fall in his footsteps, fall in love, fall apart. And he didn’t know how to get up.

“Ronnie,” he paused, breathing out before continuing. “It was an accident. I was distracted and the blade was too close.”

Veronica furrowed her brows, considering Lance’s careful words.

“That sounds awfully vague.”

“That’s all that matters. It’s gonna heal eventually.” Lance said. “Besides, I have the best nurse to take care of me during my recovery.”

Veronica let a short chuckle escape her mouth, shaking her head in disbelief. Lance was smirking when she looked back at him. The air surrounding them was imbued with some semblance of normalcy, a candlelight flickering amidst a sea of shadows.

After cleaning Lance’s wounds and changing the bandages, Veronica followed him back to the bedroom and watched as he struggled to put on his boots. She might have offered her assistance once or twice, which Lance denied with fervor.

“I told you I didn’t need a babysitter.” he bragged, feeling victorious once he was done closing the last clasp of his boot. Veronica lifted a pair of thin, dark eyebrows, visibly unimpressed. “You said you were gonna take me to the see the interrogation. Well, I’m ready to go.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling better? Your recovery comes first, Lance.”

Lance threw his hands in the air, exposing the recently changed bandages. He walked to where Veronica stood, eyeing him skeptically. Once they were close enough to breathe in the same air and count the faint freckles dotting both of their faces, Lance stopped in his tracks, staring long and hard into his sister’s eyes.

“Yes.” he confirmed with a firm voice that he could barely believe belonged to him. “I feel perfectly fine. Now, take me to the others. We can’t waste any more time.”

There was a moment of hesitance before Veronica finally agreed to take Lance with her to the interrogation room, where the Altean pilot was being kept behind a closed door, locked away from the outside world. There were cameras inside, positioned strategically in each corner of the room, recording everything that was being said and done behind those blank, gray walls. Lance identified the back of Hunk and Pidge’s heads as they regarded the quiet exchange through a sound-proof window, made from a semi mirror glass plate. He joined them with silent steps, heart rate increasing rapidly. Kosmo was a shadow trailing behind, unseen and unheard.

And then he saw her.

The Altean had fiery, red hair. It fell over her shoulders and across her forehead, long and untamed. Small red marks shone over the apple of her cheeks, one underneath each corner of her eyes. Her hands were tied, wrists adorned by a thick pair of metal cuffs. Seating in front of her was Allura, flanked on each side of her body by Shiro and Coran. Lance would recognize those silver curls anywhere, even if the strands were tied up in a tight bun, as they were now.

“Lance, buddy, how are you feeling?” Hunk asked, startling slightly as his eyes landed on Lance, a sudden presence at his side. “We didn’t hear you coming in. Where have you been?”

“I’m fine. I was just… Busy.” Lance said shortly. “Sorry if I’m late.”

“What happened to your hands?”

Lance stiffened at Pidge’s question, refusing to meet the analytical look gleaming behind those familiar lenses. He decided to keep his eyes focused on the scene developing in front of him, behind the thick glass. Almost instinctively, he buried his hands in the pockets of his pants, protecting them from any more probing eyes.

“Nothing.” he answered too quickly, voice clipped.

It was Hunk who eyed him with curiosity this time, tilting his head to the side as he regarded Lance’s sharp profile. Lance bit the inside of his cheek to prevent him from spilling an irritated retort. He closed his hands into fists inside his pockets and pain shot through his nerve endings. He inhaled sharply.

“Are you sure about that? You don’t look so good, man.” Hunk said, considering. “Are you in any pain? Shiro said you had sustained some injuries from our last fight with the robeast.”

Lance closed his eyes and started a mental count down. He had read it somewhere that it was supposed to be a meditation technique. But he realized with something akin to disappointment that he was still no closer to smothering the fire that roared inside the confines of his ribcage. A distant growl echoed on the back of his head, a faint presence that reminded Lance of long days spent on the beach, wood burning on a fireplace during winter, indigo eyes that shone with a fierceness he had yet to see anywhere else.

It was Red.

She had felt his anguish from across the Garrison, sending telepathic waves in an attempt to calm him down.

“Can we talk about this later? There are more important things to deal with at the moment.” Lance said accompanied by a long, tired sigh.

Hunk and Pidge both frowned in response.

“Since when do you pass the opportunity to talk about yourself?” Pidge asked, only half kidding.

Lance snapped his head towards them abruptly. His voice was cold when he spoke again, following a strange staccato rhythm.

“Since Keith went missing, apparently.” he knew he had been harsh, the look on Pidge’s face afterwards had been enough proof, and a sense of guilt piled up inside him. “This isn’t about me. It’s about _him_ and how we’re gonna get him back.”

Pidge gave a silent nod of their head, eyes turning back towards the window. Lance did the same, ignoring the weight of Hunk’s gaze on him and watching intently as the princess bombarded the Altean pilot with questions that went mostly unanswered. He could notice Allura’s resolve loosening, her temper rising.

“Tell me who sent you!” she said, doing nothing to conceal the anger from her voice. “I am your princess and I demand you to answer me.”

The Altean pilot threw her head back and laughed. It was a disturbing sight and the sound alone brought shivers to Lance’s spine, chilling his bones to the very core.

“ _You_ are not my princess.” she hissed. “I don’t follow your orders. You are nothing but a filthy traitor.”

“How dare you speak to the princess in such crude terms?” Coran spoke up, tone rising to dangerous levels. “Your highness demands answers and you shall give them to her.”

The Altean smiled and the expression that came over her face was threatening.

“What do you want? Why are you here?” Allura insisted, holding the edge of the table with enough force to turn her knuckles white. “Why awaken the robeast and then, all of a sudden, stop the attack?”

“I’m here because my Empress wants me here. All I did was what she told me to.”

“ _Empress_? Who are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry, treacherous princess. You’ll get to know her when the time comes.” she replied. “It’s a great honor to serve her. You’ll see. You’ll _all_ see.”

A noise erupted from Allura’s throat, similar to a growl. She stood roughly from the chair, sending it scratching across the floor until it collided against the far wall with a loud thud. Shiro and Coran remained grounded at her sides.

“I’m tired of your little games and your enigmas!” Allura blurted out, unable to contain the words inside her any longer. “I don’t want to know this Empress of yours. Not if she’s the one responsible to send you here to destroy Earth.”

“You’re a fool, princess.” she spat out. “The Empress didn’t send me here to destroy this insignificant little planet your paladins call home. I’m here to collect a head. Everything else has been collateral damage.”

“Collect a _head_?” Allura asked, puzzled.

“And, now, my work here is done.” she said with an ominous smile cutting across the lower half of her face. “Long live the Empress. Long may she reign.”

A faint, insistent buzz invaded Lance’s ears. With some confusion, he noticed the sound came from the interrogation room.

“Can you hear this too?” he asked out loud.

“Yeah.” Hunk murmured, frowning as the sound became louder. “What _is_ that?”

The humming sound resonated through the walls, followed by a strange crackle. Kosmo growled at Lance’s feet, bearing a row of sharp teeth and elongated canines. Lance clutched Kosmo’s fur between his fingers.

A high-pitched scream exploded from the Altean’s lips and the world was swallowed whole by a burst of white light. Somewhere, someone told them to get down but it was too bright too see. Lance heard the unmistakable noise of glass shattering. A tremor ran through the walls and the ground cave in beneath his feet.

Lance opened his eyes tentatively, waiting for his vision to adjust to the sudden brightness. He no longer stood before the window, having teleported to a distant corner of the room. Something smooth brushed the palm of his hand and he looked down expectantly.

“Kosmo?” he exhaled.

In his periphery, Lance saw Veronica lying down on the floor, head hidden behind her arms as she covered herself for protection. A few feet away, he found Hunk and Pidge in a similar position, surrounded by a sea of broken glass. With growing horror, Lance noticed the window through which they had been watching the exchange between Allura and the Altean pilot had been destroyed, no more than empty space.

Lance ran to his sister, the decision almost instinctual. He placed two of his fingers on her throat, feeling for a pulse. He sighed in relief when he found the small, tranquil waves thrumming under his touch.

_Steady_ , he thought.

“Ronnie? Are you okay?”

Veronica mumbled something under her breath, lifting her head from her arms and readjusting the fallen glasses across the bridge of her nose. The frame was slightly crooked to the side, pending to the left.

“Lance…” she coughed and a cloud of dirt swirled in front of her face, miniscule specks of dust falling from her unkempt hair. “What was _that_? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Kosmo took me out of the way before the explosion.”

Veronica’s eyes landed on the space wolf and her lips parted, making way for a thankful smile. She reached out and patted him on the head, between his ears. Kosmo released a content noise from the back of his throat.

“You’re such a good boy, Kosmo.” she chanted. “I’m making you an honorary member of the McClain family.”

Low groans and quiet murmurs cut through the deafening silence. Lance turned around, eyes searching with renewed focus. And — _there_ — amongst shards of glass and covered by a blanket of dust, he found them, seemingly unscathed.

“Pidge! Hunk!” Lance called out. “Are you guys alright? Please, tell me you guys are alright.”

“I’m still alive.” Pidge grumbled, struggling to move to a seating position.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’ll probably have nightmares because of that but I’m okay.” Hunk said, rubbing small circles on the back of his head. “God, my head hurts. Can someone tell me what the hell just happened?”

Pidge’s eyes widened behind the cracked lenses of their glasses, unbelievably round as a wave of panic washed away their face, leaving deep creases and sharp lines on its wake.

“The Altean pilot…”

They trailed off, but Lance remembered.

How she had returned Allura’s demands with wicked smiles, eyes devoid of any real emotion. Empty. Backwards. Corrupted. She talked about a nameless Empress and heads she was supposed to collect, as if she had come from the pages of some bad-written horror novel. And then she just —

Disappeared.

“Allura…” Lance whispered her name when images of the explosion crossed his mind. “She’s still in there. They are all there. We need to get them out…”

Lance had barely finished his sentence when the doors burst open, revealing a disheveled Allura. Shiro and Coran followed closely behind, both in equal states of disarray.

“There’s no need for it, Lance. We’re fine.” Allura said, stepping forward.

Lance scoured their faces in search for injuries, but other than a couple shallow scrapes dotting their foreheads and cheekbones they looked perfectly fine. Not a single bone out of place. No blood tainting their uniforms. Lance allowed himself to breathe properly once again.

“The Altean… Where is she?” Pidge asked.

Allura took in a deep breath and Lance saw the exact moment she put on her _princess façade_. It was like an invisible veil falling over the delicate lines of her face, a microscopic tilt of her chin, a gentle turn of her neck. It was a new-found stiffness to her slim shoulders, a detachment in her eyes, usually as bright and colorful as some of the most beautiful nebulae Lance had seen travelling through space.

“She is gone.”

“Gone?” Pidge parroted, frowning. “Do you mean she’s _dead_?”

Allura gave Pidge a single, firm nod of her head.

“Shouldn’t someone tell Romelle what happened? I mean, they knew each other from the colony, right?” Hunk considered, looking at Allura as if seeking for permission to do so. He swallowed before continuing. “I just think she deserves to know her friend is…”

“You’re right, Hunk.” Allura spared him the need to finish that sentence. Hunk let out a relieved sigh in response. “Does anyone know where she could be?”

“I think she might be at the greenhouse. She told me once how much she likes that place.” Pidge said.

Veronica cleared her throat, the sound traveled from the back of the room. Lance snapped his head towards his sister, still standing where Lance had last seen her, looking every bit the soldier she was meant to be. Lance felt a strange pressure between his ribs.

“I can look for her.” she volunteered. “Clearly, you have important paladin business to discuss.”

“Thank you, Veronica. We appreciate all the help you’ve been giving us.” Allura replied using her diplomatic voice, low and smooth. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course. It’s not a problem, princess.” she smiled, giving the paladins a two-finger salute before storming off.

“Okay,” Pidge exhaled softly. “Now what?”

Lance bunched his hands at his sides, pressing his blunt nails against thick layers of bandages. Raw desperation raged inside him, a vicious and feral beast clawing at his heart.

“She was our only chance at finding Keith.” the words spilled from Lance’s lips before he could swallow them back, dripping venomously. “And now we have _nothing_.”

“That’s not true.” Allura retorted, her tone commanding. Lance looked back at her, reluctant in allowing a spark of hope to flare inside his gloomy core. “She gave us some vital information. Now we know she worked for some self-entitled Empress and that her mission here was to collect _someone_.”

“Not someone.” Lance corrected her, tightening his fists. “She was here to take _Keith_.”

“What could this so-called Empress possibly want with him?” Hunk interjected, confused. “Why send an Altean to do her dirty work? Wasn’t Acxa the one who took him? I thought Alteans and Galra were, like, mortal enemies or something. It makes no sense.”

“Hunk has a point.” Pidge had a malicious glint in their eye, the same look they always got whenever they were thinking hard about something. “If this was work of the Galra, then why go to all this trouble just to get Keith? Why leave the Lions behind? What is so important about him?”

_Everything_.

Lance screamed inside his own head.

_He is everything._

Lance felt Red’s claws scratching at the back of his head, pressing at a particular point in his brain. She wanted him to remember something.

_What is it, girl?_

“None of this make any sense.” Pidge murmured in frustration.

“There’s something we’re not seeing, a part of the puzzle that we’re missing.” Allura paced along the room, arms crossed and brows furrowed, deep in thought. Lance felt anxious just by looking at her.

He had been avoiding the thought that perhaps they were too late, that Keith was too far gone to be brought back, that everything they had been doing at this point was useless. But now there was a heavy weight pressing down on his chest, making it harder to breathe. Allura’s words echoed in his mind, thrumming loudly in the back of his head.

_There’s something we’re not seeing…_

“We’re not gonna achieve anything at our current state.” Shiro said, utterly still and expressionless. Allura froze where she stood and lifted her eyes to meet his. “Our minds are tired and our bodies are spent. We won’t be able to figure this out on our own.”

“What do you suggest we do instead, Shiro?” Allura asked, voicing the question ringing in everyone’s head.

Lance counted down his hectic heartbeats one by one as he waited for Shiro’s response. He knew he wouldn’t like whatever came out of his mouth.

“Let’s meet tomorrow to prepare a strategy. We can’t go in blind.” he said and heads nodded in agreement. All except for one. “Pidge, you talk to Matt, so he can deliberate with the other rebels. I’ll be in charge to deliver the news to Krolia and the Blades. Meanwhile, the rest of you should get some rest.”

Lance deliberately ignored the pointed looks Shiro sent his way. He knew that was the safest course of action, gather their strengths and strategize accordingly. It was a good, solid plan. And if the situation at hand was any different, Lance would have probably agreed with Shiro. But not this time. Not when Keith could be in terrible danger. Lance couldn’t think clearly whenever Keith was concerned. He was moved by basic instinct, a pure will, ancient and primal.

He hadn’t realized how eerily silent he had been until Shiro’s voice called out his name, steering him away from his mental deliberation. Lance blinked once, twice. He swallowed the knot that had been forming at the base of his throat, eyes scanning the room and finding nothing but remnants of destruction. Everyone was gone, with the exception of Shiro.

“Lance, is everything okay? Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“I’m all good now. Lancey Lance is ready for some action.” Lance forced a smile, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Shiro could see right through the wall he had built in front of himself, gray eyes peering through the cracks. “Where is everybody?”

“Coran and Allura went after Romelle, and I’m guessing Pidge and Hunk are on their way to meet with Matt and the rebels.”

Lance nodded, not really listening to a word that had been said. Shiro approached him in short strides, bringing a hand to rest on one of his shoulders. Lance could feel his body tense under the weight of Shiro’s gaze. He didn’t dare look up to meet his gaze.

“Lance, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I told you, I’m fine.” Lance said through gritted teeth. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Lance let out a heavy sigh.

“Like I’m something fragile.” he said. “You don’t need to go easy on me, Shiro. I’m not gonna break.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Lance.” Lance felt his shoulders stiffen under the weight of Shiro’s voice. When he didn’t say anything, Shiro continued. “I lost someone too once. Someone I loved. I’m still not capable of forgiving myself for letting him go.”

“See, that’s where we’re different.” Lance blurted out, throat burning. “I don’t plan on letting Keith go. I will travel to the ends of the universe to find him. I will fight my way through dozens of Galra ships. I’ll face an entire fleet, if it will get me to him. I don’t care what I have to do. I will bring him back.”

“I believe you, Lance.” there was no judgment in Shiro’s voice, nothing condescending about his tone. He was simply stating a fact. “And trust me when I say I want to find Keith just as much as you do. But, first, we need to know more about who this Empress is, or we’ll risk putting the entire team in danger. You know I’m right, don’t you?”

Resignation crested on Lance’s shoulders, sculpting the sharp angles of his jaw as he unclenched his teeth. He deflated, all defensiveness forgotten.

“I _know_ that. I just…” he muttered, fighting the words forming on the tip of his tongue. But he was too weak. “I’m confused, Shiro. I feel like I’m losing my mind, little by little. I can’t think clearly anymore. It’s like my thoughts revolve solely around Keith.”

Shiro smiled softly, warmth on his lips. But his eyes were like ice, tragically sad.

“Love can bring people to the edge of madness.” he said, a ghost of a smile still haunting his lips. “It can make us do crazy things and all of a sudden we see ourselves making decisions that lack any logical sense.”

Lance’s jaw closed very quietly, his eyebrows furrowing low on his forehead. Shiro’s words ringed in his ears, weightless. It had left him disoriented, distorting his sense of balance. Lance didn’t trust his own voice in that moment, so he remained quiet. He felt suspended in time. Until Shiro brought him back to earth, pulling him by the shoulders and forcing his feet on the ground.

“Lance, listen.” he began, careful. “I know you’re scared for Keith. I am too. It’s obvious how much you care for him, but right now I need you to stay focused. The team needs you, Lance. Can you do this for them? For _us_?”

“Yes, I think I can.” Lance said after a moment of hesitation, holding Shiro’s gaze.

Shiro let go of Lance’s shoulder and for a moment he thought he might fall, no longer feeling that familiar solid weight to lean against. He watched as the former paladin made his way towards the doors, steady steps echoing across the empty, shattered room.

Shiro paused once he reached the far wall, faltering. He looked back over his shoulder, stone gray eyes meeting Lance’s ocean blue ones. Distantly, Lance thought about waves crashing against the shore, white foam engulfing the tip of his toes before receding, gone back in time. Lance remembered watching the steadfast motion of the waves when he was just a boy, unknowing of the perils of the world. He remembered being hypnotized, eyes following the comes and goes of translucent water in a daze.

Lance wished he could go back to that moment, to relive it over and over, in an endless cycle. He wished he had never grown up and he wondered if perhaps then his heart would have remained whole, safe from the terrible monster inhabiting deep inside him, tearing down at his heart with sharp teeth and long claws. Love was a cruel and unforgiving beast. It only took and took, without ever giving in return. It was eating Lance from the inside out, until there was nothing left but bones for it to bury its fangs into, to gnaw and rip to shreds.

“And Lance?” Shiro called out. His voice exerted some kind of magnetism, forcing Lance’s eyes to meet his. “We’re all here for you, if you ever need it. Try not to forget that.”

Shiro reminded Lance before leaving him alone to drown in a sparkly sea of broken glass, lost amongst double-edged waves. He sank further, alongside the wreckage of what was left of his broken heart. His throat burned in desperate need for air. He fought and clawed his way back to the surface.

Until he could, at last, breathe again.

* * *

 

Lance went looking for Hunk and Pidge once he was feeling somewhat stable, cowardly tears no longer threatening to fall from his eyes, heart beating at a slower pace than before, breathing with an ease he was unaccustomed to feel cursing through him, always struggling with his own lungs, fighting silent battles within himself on a daily basis. He was growing restless. Tired. Weak. He didn’t know how much more he could take.

All he knew was that he didn’t want to be alone.

At least, not now.

Not when dark thoughts loomed at the edges of his troubled mind and his body strayed further away from his control. It was not safe. _He_ was not safe.

After aimlessly drifting through countless corridors and empty rooms, Lance had found them gathered in one of the largest tables at the crowded cafeteria, engaging on an enthusiastic conversation with a few members from the rebellion. Lance’s eyes travelled to where Hunk and Pidge were seating, side by side, with their heads thrown back and laughter erupting from their throats.

Lance couldn’t help but feel like an outcast. An intruder. Someone who didn’t belong there with the rest of them. _Outsider_ , a voice whispered in the back of his mind. Lance curled his fingers into fists and hissed in pain.

“Lance? Is that you?”

Lance’s eyes travelled to the source of that voice he only distantly recognized, having scarcely heard it before. His gaze found Matt amongst the boisterous crowd, seating next to Pidge, unbelievably small compared to their brother’s towering form. He looked older, with a thin scar ripping the apple of his cheek, a narrow line born on the corner of his eye, stretching further south.

Lance blinked and Matt disappeared before his eyes, his image having been replaced by someone else’s. Someone he knew intimately, owner of a similar scar that ran from the underside of his jaw, cutting vertically across a large extent of luminous porcelain skin. Starry eyes glanced back at him, expectantly.

Lance blinked again and the mirage faded, falling away through long eyelashes. Matt had returned to where he had never really left and the image of Keith all but vanished into thin air, no more than a delirious vision. And the memory of Keith seating there, laughing alongside them, was nothing but that. A memory. Gone in the blink of an eye. Lance cursed himself mentally for allowing his treacherous mind to follow such a dangerous path.

“Lance, buddy, come seat with us!” Hunk waved widely in his direction, sliding a fraction to the side and patting the empty spot beside him.

Lance approached the table, faltering before accepting Hunk’s invitation. He observed as small eyes narrowed back at him. A silent question swimming in those dark irises.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

Lance felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle, anger flared in his gut.

“No, everything is _not_ okay.” he grunted in return, jaw clenching tightly. Hunk frowned. “What are you guys even doing here? We should be trying to find Keith and elaborating a rescue mission, but instead you’re cracking jokes with your rebel friends?”

Hunk sighed.

“Lance, c’mon man, don’t be like that.” Lance simply stared back, unresponsive. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Pidge stretching out their neck behind Hunk, trying to get closer, no doubt to listen to whatever was being said between the two of them. “We have been trying to locate Keith’s whereabouts ever since we found out he was captured. We’re just taking a break. There’s no harm in that. Shiro said —”

“Yeah, I know what Shiro said. I was there too, remember?”

“Good. So, you don’t need me to remind you it’s important to take a deep breath from time to time.” Hunk said, sounding astoundingly like Shiro. “Take a seat and have some food.”

Lance opened his mouth to protest, but he was taken slightly aback in the wake of the loud rumbling coming from his stomach. When was the last time he had eaten? He couldn’t remember. His memories were all but intertwined with one another in a blurry, shapeless chaos. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until that moment. At least, that’s what Lance reasoned with himself as he quietly occupied the empty seat next to Hunk, grabbing a handful of scones that had been laid out on the table.

“We were just telling them about that one time we thought the Castle was being haunted.” Pidge called out from Hunk’s other side. Lance lifted his head, albeit reluctantly. “Do you remember that? God, it feels like this happened a lifetime ago.”

“Huh?” he mumbled with a mouthful of food.

To be quite honest, Lance hadn’t really been paying attention to what was being said earlier, before his arrival. Subjects changed fast, chirping voices were carried away across the extent of the table, loud and obnoxious, merging with the distant echoes of laughter. In the end, it hardly mattered. Every raucous, meaningless chatter became white noise upon reaching his ears, words somewhere lost in translation.

Lance’s mind insisted to drift to other places, all of them forbidden and out of reach. He could hear his own voice shouting at him, telling him to get up and move. He shouldn’t be here. He should be out there, looking for Keith, losing himself behind battle plans and rescuing strategies, not idly reminiscing over the time they had shared together at the Castle of Lions. What good could come of it?

_None_ , his mind provided the answer.

Absolutely pointless.

“Yeah, I remember.”

Lance said after swallowing. He cleaned the crumbs hanging from his lips with the back of his hand and cleared his throat before continuing. Bits and pieces of that particular day flashed before his eyes, bright and fast.

“I remember being trapped inside the airlock. I couldn’t get out and no matter how hard I tried the controls simply wouldn’t work.” he said, barely hearing his own voice, sounding distant to his own ears. “The alarm sounded off and I knew I had only 30 ticks before the doors opened and I was thrown out into space.”

Lance paused, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip. He could sense dozens of pairs of eyes concentrated exclusively on him. Normally, he wouldn’t feel disconcerted at the prospect of being the center of attention. He had thrived on it once upon a time. But everything was different now.

“How did you manage to get out?” Matt interjected, eyes so similar to Pidge’s open wide with poorly contained curiosity.

“Well, the doors opened and for a moment I thought I was going to die. But then Keith… He showed up, out of nowhere, and he…”

Lance swallowed the constricting knot lodged at the base of his throat. His heart plummeted to the bottomless pit located under his ribcage, digging somewhere deep inside his stomach. It amazed him, how profoundly his body could react to such a casual mention of Keith, as if he was there alongside them, as if he hadn’t been captured and was most likely being tortured as they sat there, talking.

“He saved me.”

Lance forced the words out and they burned the tip of his tongue as they slipped free from his wavering grasp. His breath got caught on his throat and he choked on air. A hand rested on his arm, strong fingers pressing down on soft skin. Lance found Hunk’s warm gaze directed at him, brows creased in slight concern.

“Hey, buddy.” his voice was the embodiment of kindness, a gentle caress on Lance’s aching heart. “Do you wanna come with me to the kitchen? See if there’s any more scones left?”

There was a hidden question lying behind Hunk’s words. Lance knew what he was trying to accomplish with that. And, in that moment, Lance couldn’t remember ever being more grateful for having Hunk Garret as his best friend. He studied Hunk’s face, looking for reassurance. He found it in the glint on his eyes, the curling of his mouth, the short tilt of his head.

With a single, affirmative nod, Lance stood from his chair and followed Hunk through the mass of tables to the kitchen entrance.

There was no one there with the exception of the two of them. And, now Kosmo as well, who had recently appeared in a burst of white light. Lance propelled himself upwards onto one of the metal counters, careful as he used his hands, not to wound them further. He watched Hunk in his quest for the lost scones as he dangled his feet from the edge of the counter, staring at his own face reflected upon the pristine floor.

Hunk rummaged through drawers and cabinets, mumbling unintelligible sounds to himself. Kosmo trotted behind him, lifting his muzzle and sniffing around, as if he too was looking for something.

“I could swear I had put them somewhere over here…”

Hunk’s trail of thought was interrupted by Kosmo’s loud barking. He turned around, eyes flying to where Kosmo stood, muzzle pointing to one of the ovens. Hunk’s entire face lit up, a large smile growing in his mouth.

“Kosmo, that’s it! You’re the best teleporting space wolf in the whole universe.” he said, caressing Kosmo under his jaw, the gesture eliciting a pleased noise from his throat. “Well done, boy.”

Lance chuckled softly at the sight.

“I’m pretty sure he’s the _only_ teleporting space wolf in the universe.” he said. “I mean, it’s not like we have come across any others during our time in space.”

Hunk shrugged.

“Probably. But, still, Kosmo is one of a kind.”

“Yeah, he really is.”

Lance echoed, with a fleeting smile hovering over his lips. His fingers twitched with a nervous impulse. Blunt nails grazed along the coarse material of one of the bandages, pulling at the loose seams, uncharacteristically silent.

He could feel the weight of Hunk’s brown eyes as they trailed towards him, climbing over his trembling hands towards a lean torso and a slim neck before settling on a pair of freckled cheekbones. Ocean eyes fell shut, long lashes fluttered, casting half of his face in shadows.

“You care a lot about him, don’t you?” Hunk asked, placing the tray with the scones on the counter next to Lance.

“Yeah, it’s nice to have him around.” Lance said. “Especially now that I know he won’t bite my head off.”

“I wasn’t talking about Kosmo.”

Lance stilled at the sound of Hunk’s voice, words sinking in with a sting, resembling the feel of sharp teeth piercing into frail skin. He looked away, refusing to face Hunk, a last desperate attempt at avoiding direct confrontation.

“Hunk, don’t —”

“I know there’s something going on with you, Lance. I’m your best friend, remember? I _know_ you.”

“There’s nothing going on, okay? Just… Stop.”

“Lance, I’m not blind! I can _see_ that you’re in pain.” Hunk huffed, throwing his arms in the air in exasperation. “When were you gonna tell me that you and Allura had broken up? Or you don’t trust me anymore to tell me things?”

Lance flinched at the harsh tone, shaking his head and pulling at his hair by the roots.

“How did you — Of course I trust you, Hunk! How could you even ask me that?”

“I don’t know, Lance. I feel like you don’t talk to me anymore.” he retorted, lacking the usual warmth permeating his voice. “What am I supposed to think?”

Lance let out a suffocated groan, jumping from where he had been seating on the counter. The soles of his boots landed on the floor with a dull thud. Everything else was silence. Heavy, constricting silence.

“Listen, Hunk, I was going to tell you about Allura. I swear…”

“Then why didn’t you? Why are you keeping secrets from me?”

Lance met Hunk’s gaze, hearing the hurtful notes being played on his voice. His stomach lurched as soon as his eyes landed on the severe expression etched on every plane of his best friend’s face.

He sighed.

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Hunk.” Lance said, voice breaking with each ragged breath he took. “I don’t wanna think about it. I just wanna be alone.”

“Lance, if this is about Keith, you can’t change what has already happened. The past is in the past, man.” Hunk took one step forward, reaching out to Lance. But he recoiled, unravelling at the seams. “You shouldn’t waste your time thinking about it. You need to move on, to think about what we can do _now_ instead of what could have been done _before_.”

“Hunk, please…”

“I’m just trying to help you, Lance. It’s not healthy to keep all this bottled up inside you.” he said, sounding a bit more like his usual self. “C’mon, talk to me.”

Lance was washed away by a tidal wave, lungs corrupted and eyes damp from letting his mind wander to unholy places. He swam against the torrent, tasting the bitterness of despair and the sweet confusion as it was spilled onto his tonsils.

They stood there, face to face, staring at each other without speaking. The atmosphere was dense, an invisible bubble of air that bent around their bodies, continuously reforming itself in order to envelope both of their forms in its embrace.

“Just… Leave me alone, Hunk.”

Lance turned away, feeling defeat weight down on his bones as Hunk cried out his name, unrelenting.

He didn’t look back as he trespassed the kitchen doors.

* * *

 

Lance gazed into the night sky. He felt almost as if he was standing on a stage, staring at the thick, impossibly heavy curtains meant to protect oblivious viewers from having an accidental glimpse and ruining the magical prospect of the spectacle. Tonight, the metaphorical curtains were particularly dusty as silver specks clung to the impenetrable fabric, borrowing some of their glow. _Stars_ , Lance thought with a pinch of melancholia. _The sky is full of them tonight._

It was the kind of night you read about in ancient poems, starry and warm and filled with immense beauty. The kind of night you wish you could share with someone else. But Lance was alone. Perhaps beautiful nights such as this were only ever meant to exist in the depths of his mind, painting the background of one of his dreams in vivid tones of blue and silver. He hadn’t been built for such things.

But, _God, he wished he had been…_

Lance looked back at the stars, chasing their distant warmth, chasing for something other than celestial bodies, chasing for _one_ body in particular. A body that lacked the radiance of the moon and was filled in its place with enthralling darkness. A darkness that pulsated, filling every crack and rupture, running fast under fair skin, pumping life and color into him. A darkness that reminded Lance of the midnight hour. A darkness that he craved, that he wanted to lost himself to, wholeheartedly. Body and soul. He wished for those midnights to last for an eternity. He wished for them to _stay_.

But they never did.

And neither did Keith.

_Keith, Keith, Keith…_

Lance thought about Keith. He thought about him and his impulsive nature, a smile that would put even the brightest star to shame, eyes — _God, his eyes_ — a deep shade of indigo, inhuman, with twilight reflected on them. He thought about Keith, who was fearless. Keith, dutiful warrior. Keith, who had left the only family he had ever known because of him. To protect him. Keith, who was now gone.

Lance looked at the stars. Alone. Silent. He looked, and looked, and looked. And he started to notice small things that weren’t there before. Like how some constellations held a strong resemblance to Keith’s hands, with their long and slightly crooked fingers. How he could almost draw the shape of Keith’s eyes if he followed the faint pattern outlined by a group of stars with their emanating soft glow.

“Where are you, Keith?” Lance whispered into nothingness.

The words drifted away, taken by a gust of wind, disappearing into the vastness of the night sky, never to come back.

Lance felt constricted under his own skin, too tight and too thin. He could feel the threads that held him together falling apart, being undone. That invisible weight over his shoulders threatened to crush his bones, leaving nothing but dust sprawled over the rooftop. A part of him wanted to collapse underneath it, to be taken by a warm desert breeze, to end everything.

All the hurt.

All the loneliness.

All the longing.

The air shifted around Lance. He could feel the change in his bones. Lightening flashed before his open eyes and he sensed a presence pressing onto the side of his body. His lips curled into a smile before his eyes even had the time to fully settle on the furry figure lying next to him.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re following me, Kosmo.” Lance said, smile widening as the space wolf nested his head on one of Lance’s thighs. “I bet you miss him too, buddy. But we’ll get him back. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

A muffled noise reached Lance’s ears and he took it as reassurance. He was running his fingers through Kosmo’s thick strands of fur, playing with the thin skin of his ears, when he heard the distinct sound of a door opening and closing.

Lance sighed.

“I told you I wanted to be alone, Hunk.”

Loud steps echoed behind him, coming closer.

And then it abruptly stopped.

“Forgive me, but I was told I could find you here, red paladin.”

Lance felt the exact moment his blood froze in his veins, ice creeping into each and every fissure between his muscles, limbs paralyzed. He turned slowly, staring wide-eyed at the shadow-like figure that had joined him in his misery at the roof.

He swallowed, hard.

“K — Krolia?” he stuttered, clearing his throat as he tried to regain some of his composure. “You were looking for me? Why?”

“Shiro told me about Keith.” Krolia said, voice flat. Lance could hear the unspoken words of that sentence. Definitive. Dooming.

“I — I don’t see how this has anything to do with me.”

“Well, I asked Shiro about what had happened to Kosmo, since the two of them were inseparable.” she said, glancing fondly at Kosmo, head still covering half of Lance’s lower body. “He told me I might find him here, with you.”

Lance murmured a soft _“Oh”_ in response, the crease between his brows smoothed away by a sudden clarity.

“He’s been following me around since…” he stopped, unable to continue.

Krolia filled in the void that had been steadily expanding between them.

“He must be really fond of you, red paladin.”

“It’s Lance.” he corrected. Krolia tilted her head to the side, pondering. “You can call me Lance.”

“Lance.” she echoed and a bright smile shone between full, lilac lips. Lance nearly lost his balance at the sight. So out of place, and yet so achingly familiar. Her eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh, I remember now. Keith has told me about you during our time in the quantum abyss, the infamous blue paladin. Or, should I say, former blue paladin.”

“He did?” Lance asked, feeling as the frown returned to his brows, every line of his face drawn taut in confusion.

Krolia nodded and the silvery glow of thousands of stars hovering above their heads touched her dark hair, shining through the strands, glossy as a raven’s feathers. Lance found himself looking away, heart hammering in his ears. It was hard to look at Krolia, he decided. She shared too many traits with Keith for Lance to be able to ignore.

“He told me about all of you. The paladins, the Lions, the Castle ship. We had plenty of time to catch up on the lost years.” she said, absently running a hand up and down Kosmo’s spine. “And then we found this one. Or, rather, he found us.”

“I’m assuming this is the part where you take him back with you.” Lance spilled the words like poison, heart rumbling in his ears, insufferably loud. “I mean, it makes more sense for him to stay with you than with me. You’re Keith’s mother, after all. And I — I’m nobody.”

Krolia retreated her hand from Kosmo’s fur. Sharp Galran claws hid behind a loosely closed fist. Lance waited for the inevitable heartbreak, but he had grown used to it by now. He felt the urge to laugh at the tragedy of himself.

“You’re wrong.” Krolia said, so low Lance had difficulty trusting his own senses. Surely, he had imagined that. “Kosmo likes you and, by the looks of it, I believe you’re quite fond of him as well. There’s a reason why he’s so keen on staying at your side, Lance.”

Lance dared to take a furtive look back at Krolia. She sat statuesque at his side, reminding him of ancient gargoyles, sculpted from some unbreakable stone. She was bathed in shadows; indigo eyes distant, looking at nowhere, searching for nothing.

“Here.” she murmured. “Take this.”

 The words left her mouth just as one of her hands moved towards her belt, unsheathing a short knife. Lance felt the air being forcefully pushed out of his lungs as recognition overwhelmed his senses. He couldn’t hear, he couldn’t speak, he could hardly breathe. Because there, on Krolia’s waiting palm, laid Keith’s Marmoran blade.

Lance’s eyes travelled across the dagger, from its cut-glass tip to its emblazoned hilt, carved marks alight with a purple tint. His hand moved, no longer under his command. Fingers stretched out, shaking with the desire to _touch_ and _feel_.

“Take it.”

Krolia was adamant and Lance could feel his resolve faltering. He stopped, unsure, hand frozen in mid-movement.

“I — I can’t…” he pulled his hand back brusquely, keeping it close to his body. “I can’t take this. Keith…”

“… Would want you to have it.” Krolia cut in, resigned. “I know how my son feels about you. He would want you to be safe.”

_I left to protect you._

Keith’s voice invaded his ears, tuning out the loud pumping of blood, along with everything else.

“You can give it back to him when you see him again.”

Krolia wrapped strong fingers around Lance’s wrist and forced his hand to open, placing the blade on his wounded palm. Her movements were imbued with a gentleness foreign to a soldier, but Lance could see how her features, hard and impossible to read, softened. How those fingers — made to cut and pull apart — grazed ever so lightly over the bandages. Her eyes seemed to tear a hole through the flimsy material, seeing beyond them. Beyond stitches. Beyond skin and bone. All the way to his soul. It was an unnerving feeling, to be caught under the scrutiny of that gaze.

“Take good care of it, Lance.” she said, carefully curling his fingers around the hilt. “It is yours now.”

Lance couldn’t look away from his hand, a bandaged fist tightly closed around the hilt of Keith’s blade. He was assaulted by small tremors, a tingling sensation that grew from the tip of his fingers, a languid ache where he knew that same blade had cut through not too long ago, drawing blood. _His blood_. Lance focused on the sensation of having his fingers around the dagger, getting used to the weight, skin melting against the alien material, absorbing it.

He let out a shaky breath.

_It is yours now._

Lance wasn’t entirely sure if Krolia had been talking about the Marmoran blade or if there was _more_ , a deeper meaning hidden underneath her words, all chosen with visible care.

Krolia patted Kosmo one last time before bringing herself back to her feet. Lance heard her footsteps as she walked, pulling further away from where he was seating. He turned around and her name fell from his lips. Krolia paused, looking over her shoulder, eyebrows lifted in silent questioning.

“How can you be so calm not knowing where Keith is?” Lance asked, feeling himself blush at his own straightforwardness. “I — I mean, aren’t you worried about what could be done to him? I feel like I’m the only one freaking out here, thinking about the endless possibilities.”

“I like to think the universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to bring us together after so long only to rip him from my arms for good.” Krolia had a sad look in her eyes and Lance thought he could identify the first crack in the impeccable armor she wore. “I found him when I thought all hope to be lost. I have to believe it won’t be different this time.”

From the corner of his eye, Lance saw Krolia leaving, disappearing behind old-hinged doors. He brushed the pad of his thumb over Galran markings, evoking whatever hidden powers that blade may possess.

“I’m bringing you back, Keith. No matter where you are, I will find you.” Lance swore under the stars, an oath sealed on blood and tears. “I will bring you home.”

Back to Earth.

Back to your family.

Back to _me_.

Lance would bring entire cities to the ground — to perish under the flames, reduced to ashes and ruins —, if it meant he could see that true smile one more time, as warm and as bright as the sun.


	5. part v - i'll never be whole again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A voice spoke in the back of his mind.
> 
> Keith.
> 
> He closed his eyes as a peculiar sense of peace overcame him. Behind his eyelids, Keith saw himself on the summit of a mountain, dark sky expanding for miles behind his back and the world at his feet. He looked below, calm and collected. For the first time during the short span of his life, Keith felt under control. There was no blinding rage burning deep in his core. No emptiness in his heart. No fear in his mind. Everything belonged to him, such was the extent of his power.
> 
> A presence appeared at his side, long fingers intertwined against his. A perfect fit. Then a voice spoke in his head, terribly familiar, crawling under his skin and running with his blood. Once repelled, now part of who he had become. Slowly, his resolve drowned, disappearing into the darkness. Keith opened his eyes and standing at his side he saw the face that haunted his every dream, the personification of his every desire. Luminous, olive skin. Short, brown hair. Ocean, blue eyes.
> 
> Lance sent a bright smile in Keith’s direction and all he was made quiet once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, surprise! There has been a small change and this chapter follows Keith's POV instead of Lance's. I'm just gonna go and apologize in advance for all the suffering I'm gonna put this boy through, he's gonna need some hugs once this is all over.... And who's better than Lance to give him all the hugs in the world? kfjdk  
> Some warnings about this chapter. It includes mentions of torture, both mental and physical.  
> Also, the title for this chapter was taken from the song 'Litost' from X Ambassadors. As always, I'd appreciate if you left comments and kudos. Aaand you can always find me on tumblr: @niccoarte  
> xx

**part v**

**i’ll never be whole again**

* * *

_With this love like a hole_  
_Swallowed my soul_  
 _Draggin me down_

* * *

 

Keith opened his eyes to darkness.

A vast ocean of shadows surrounded him, lulling his body is waves of pain that came and went in rapid intervals. Cold air slipped through his under suit, invisible needles made of ice that prickled the skin, piercing flesh until they could freeze his bones as well. With some difficulty, Keith tried to sit up, disconnecting the side of his face from where it had been laying on the smooth, pristine floor.

_Where am I?_

Keith closed his eyes tightly, searching in his brain for answers, running into the secret passages and turning into the dark corners that had been built in his troubled head. And there it was. No more than a faint flare of light at the end of a long tunnel. He found it. A memory. An answer.

The Garrison was being attacked by the same robeast from before. Somehow the Altean pilot had freed herself from her prison cell and had found her way back to the mechanical monster. Tremors ran through the ground, powerful vibrations that rattled the entire building, threatening to crumble even the tallest, strongest structures. Keith had received word from Pidge and Hunk soon after. They had been safe, if only slightly scared. He remembered trying to reach Lance, needing to know he was secure. It was nearly instinctual, something that bordered on primitive urges, this desire to protect Lance. He could no longer remember when this _want_ had first slipped in his bloodstream, an all-encompassing protectiveness he hadn’t felt over anyone, ever before.

Not even for Shiro.

_This_ was different.

It was more. More than basic instinct. More than friendly concern. Keith couldn’t name this feeling, at least not then. Not for the longest time. It was simply _more_. But he thought perhaps he knew what it meant now. He could almost taste the word forming on the tip of his tongue, a sickly-sweet flavor swimming on his tonsils. He tried to open his mouth, to break those four letters free from his wavering grasp.

But he couldn’t say it.

Because saying them would make it real. So, he swallowed them dry. The truth was like poison burning down his throat, a heavy weight settling in his chest. Entrapped behind his ribcage, never to get out.

Lance’s line of communication had been dead, nothing but static. Keith remembered the horrifying panic as it threatened to take a hold of his heart, tendrils of darkness wrapping around his throat, pressing harder, harder, harder. Until Black roared in the back of his mind, loud and brutal. A burst of blue exploded behind his eyelids and suddenly he knew exactly where Lance was.

Keith had buried his fingers in Kosmo’s thick fur, wild strands caught in a vice grip, and allowed a single command to roll out of his tongue.

“Take me to him.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, but Kosmo had listened. A moment later, they were enveloped in the arms of searing white light, disappearing into thin air.

Keith still remembered how much it hurt to see Lance nested in Allura’s arms. Looking at the two of them wrapped around each other had pained him. With their bodies intertwined, their fingers digging into soft, warm skin, unwilling to let go. But he couldn’t find the strength within himself to look away.

_See_ , a voice mocked him in the back of his head, a vile hissing sound. _See all that you want and will never have._

And then the memories flowed to the front of his brain in a strong torrent, unrelenting and all-consuming.

Keith remembered the pained expression painting Lance’s features. He remembered the way his voice cracked at the end of every word, calling out to him. But, most of all, he remembered his eyes. Those deep, cobalt blue eyes. The same eyes he dreamed of every night before he fell asleep. Eyes he wished he was allowed to get lost into, to drown into that small ocean, to be taken by waves so blue and so warm and irrevocably _Lance’s_.

If Keith closed his eyes, he could still see the scene burned in the crimson skin behind his eyelids, the silent plea written across those delicate features. A siren’s song, otherworldly beautiful and dangerously alluring. A familiar voice echoing inside his head, resonating with each heartbeat, begging him to _stay_.

But Keith had turned around and left.

He wished he could go back and change his actions. He wished he had stayed there, in the Garrison, with Lance. He wished he was worthy of such a divine fate, to love and to be loved in return. He wished, he wished, he wished. But there was no point in dwelling in the past. It was useless. Every word and every gesture had been engraved in stone, cemented in time. He could only move forward.

Onward and upward.

Keith brought his fingers to his bruised jaw, moving it with care from side to side, assessing the damage that had been done. The spot where he remembered Acxa had landed the first punch still ached, haunted by phantom pulses, skin now painted blue with a fresh bruise. But the dull pain was nothing but a distant echo compared to the persistent throbbing he felt at the nape of his neck. A blade that cut through his back, between his shoulder blades, grazing each vertebra with its sharp tip as it moved further south. Down, down, down.

Keith had no idea how many nerve endings resided in that specific place, where head met neck, but Acxa seemed to have known the exact point she would have to hit to render him unconscious.

It had worked.

The last thing he remembered was being at the receiving end of one of her ruthless blows, until her fist connected with the back of his head and everything went silent. His vision was swallowed by darkness. His ears drowned in a rush of blood. His shoulders sagged, limbs falling limp at the sides of his body before he collapsed against the cold, hard ground.

He could still taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, scarlet rivulets that had leaked from the open cuts on his lips and that now coated his skin in dry, brownish hues. Keith brushed the tip of his fingers onto his fresh bruises, featherlight touches against tender flesh. He shifted on the cold floor where he had been so carelessly thrown, looking around with sharp eyes as he gathered his new surroundings.

Cold, sterile walls towered over him and the only light illuminating the small, constricting room came through the crevices under a pair of heavy-looking, metal doors. Realization started to dawn on him. A vicious, horrifying feeling grew in his core, spreading through his blood like disease. Fast and unforgiving.

Acxa had betrayed him.

She had betrayed all of them.

Keith was consumed by a searing surge of anger, blood boiling with an overwhelming fury. He had been so _stupid_. How could he had been so stupid? He should have seen the signs. He should have known. But he had closed his eyes to the truth and now he laid alone in a prison cell, injured and captured.

And the worst part of it all?

He had no one to blame but himself. He had condemned the entire team — the entire planet — with his careless actions and misguided trust.

Keith sank to his knees, back sliding against the wall until he collapsed on the floor. His heart sank with him, plummeting down into the abyss carved between his ribs. He had doomed the universe, endangering thousands of lives across countless galaxies. Because of him the Garrison had been exposed to new threats. Because of him the most powerful weapon in existence was rendered useless. The paladins wouldn’t be able to form Voltron without him, the sole pilot of the Black Lion.

He was the one who was supposed to lead them. The one responsible for their safety. The one who had put his faith in the wrong person. The only one to blame.

Keith felt his stomach churn, plagued with guilt. He was taken under a familiar spell, an impulse that burned deep within him. A blazing flame that never faded, born from everlasting embers.

He threw his fist against the wall, releasing a strangled cry in frustration. Pain flashed through his hand and he slammed his fist into the wall one more time, and another one after that. Again, and again, and again. Until blood rained down between his fingers.

He cradled his now injured hand close to his chest, inspecting the fresh bruises painting his knuckles in speckles of red. Opening and closing his fingers in rhythmic motions, Keith waited for the pulsating ache to subside. He closed his eyes, allowing a sigh to escape past his lips.

_Patience yield focus._

Shiro’s voice echoed from the back of his head, resonating inside his skull in deafening, clear tones. Keith remembered a time when he would simply roll his eyes at the words, scowling back at Shiro in response. And, _God, how he missed those times_ …

He wished he could go back and relive fleeting moments such as those, when he was young and foolish and incapable of controlling his temper. Life was much simpler then; his concerns so terribly mundane.

Keith felt stuck, caught in a riptide. A whirlwind of feelings he had thought once dead and buried now swirled underneath his feet, unsteady. A monster lurked in the shadows, hungry, craving for _more_.

But he had nothing left to give.

Keith looked into its savage eyes, as deep and as blue as the ocean at midnight, and for one terrifying moment he thought he could feel its long claws sinking into him, piercing the soft skin from his legs, pulling him under. But Keith refused to drown.

He was a fighter. He had been fighting his entire life, against the odds, against the cruelty of the world, against himself. Now wouldn’t be any different.

Keith made a silent promise. He could hear his own voice — raspy and hoarse from lack of use — reverberating inside his head, tuning out the frantic rush of blood flooding his ears.

He was going to get back.

Back to Earth.

Back to the team.

Back to _Lance_.

Keith concentrated, focusing on the small noises his ears were able to capture coming from the other side of those heavy-looking doors. Nothing but the quiet, ever-present rumble of a ship. After spending so long aboard the Castle of Lions, he had learned to associate certain sounds with the vastness of space. And, all of a sudden, he was transported back to when he was lost amongst the stars, a celestial body adrift in a never-ending emptiness. With growing horror, Keith realized he was being held captive in a spaceship, light-years away from home.

He cursed under his breath.

Keith could see his chances of escaping languishing, dwindling as a gust of imaginary wind blew them away. Hope unraveled through his trembling fingers, like the grains of sand he used to touch during those years in the desert. Years he had spent alone, isolated, with no other company but for the voices inside his head and that distant calling, a persistent feeling prickling the tip of his fingers, rattling his bones.

And, against all better judgement, Keith found himself thinking about Lance, of all people. Lance, who had sprouted unexpectedly at his side during that eventful night, a flower blossoming in the middle of the desert. Lance, who had rewritten fate with a single touch. Keith could still remember how the pads of his fingertips grazed the alien carvings etched in the walls made of stone. A cave that had been dead once, suddenly drenched in bright, blue light. Lance, with his feigned confidence and charming smile. The most selfless of them all, always putting himself in the line of danger before anyone else. Lance, who had a heart of gold.

He was only a boy. A reckless, infuriating boy that brought out the very worst in Keith. But a boy nonetheless.

And yet, so much more.

He had crept under Keith’s skin, poisoning his bloodstream, blurring his every coherent thought. He had torn down all of Keith’s defenses, leaving him bare, at the mercy of those soft hands. Hands that ripped his chest wide open, pulling ribs apart. The very same pair of hands that had so carelessly stolen Keith’s beating heart, long fingers ruthlessly cutting through the strings that held it safely inside his chest.

_Stop_ , he thought.

There was no point in thinking of things that were never meant to be his. Some people were simply meant to be alone and Keith had begun to think that perhaps he was one of them. Lance had Allura, Hunk had Shay, Shiro once had Adam, a long time ago. Keith had never had anyone. All he knew was loneliness. Unknowable. Unlovable. A _lone wolf._

The ugly, painful truth was that he didn’t know how to love. No one had ever taught him. And he didn’t think he would ever learn.

He hadn’t uttered a single word, but he was still able to taste the bitterness left on his tongue. Keith released a long, tired sigh, closing his eyes as he searched for something — anything — he could use to ground his feet back to reality. A reality where he had been betrayed, subsequently captured and with no means to escape.

The distant sound of footsteps brought Keith back from the dangerous thoughts in his head. Images of Lance slowly began to fade, drifting away like the frail edges of a burnt piece of paper. Keith turned his head towards the metal doors. He could hear the rapid pulse of his heart as adrenaline was poured in his bloodstream, limbs trembling with anticipation, head ringing from the furious pump of blood.

Keith’s hand went instinctively to the Marmoran blade he kept on his belt at all times. But he found nothing. The comforting weight he felt on his hips was no longer there, replaced with a dreadful emptiness. He snapped his head down, eyes open wide as he fumbled through his own body, fingers brushing the fabric of his under suit in exasperation, gripping thin air.

_No, no, no_.

Keith grunted loudly, the sound tearing through his throat, angry and animalistic. Whoever had taken him, had also taken the time and care to undress him from his paladin armor, leaving his body vulnerable, with barely to no protection, clad only in his thin, gray under suit. He had nothing. No bayard. No blade. No means to defend himself and carve his way to freedom.

The steps grew closer, fast approaching. Keith had barely any time to move before the doors burst open with a whooshing sound, filling the prison cell with a blinding light, dispelling the shadows to a dark corner of his memory. Keith squinted his eyes, trying to adjust his vision to the sudden clarity. He assumed his customary fighting stance, with tight fists raised high before his face and knees slightly bend.

Keith launched his body forward without hesitating, an angry battle cry escaping his mouth through clenched teeth. He only managed to hit a single blow to one of the guards’ solar plexus before a wave of pain engulfed him, muscles becoming rigid as an electrical current coursed through him, setting his mind on fire, nerves lighting up like Christmas lights. Keith gasped, staggering to a halt and nearly collapsing onto the floor before two pairs of strong hands gripped him by the arms.

Keith spasmed, suddenly assaulted by intense tremors, remnants of the current still running through his system. He could feel the air being pulled from his lungs with striking force, painfully sharp. His body had already begun to shut down, heart shuddering from being fed with such dosages of high voltage, knees bending further down.

But Keith was a fighter.

And so, he fought.

“Let go of me!”

Keith’s screams reverberated across the empty corridor. He gathered the last remains of his extinguishing strength, a pathetic excuse of what it used to be, and pulled at his own tired limbs, thrashing and kicking against the guards’ strong hold. But it hadn’t been enough. He was too weak, drained of his power. They carried his limp, useless body across the large expanse of the corridor. Their grip hadn’t wavered, empty eyes trained straight ahead, lips pressed into a grim, lifeless line.

Keith felt a shiver run down his spine as his eyes focused on the stoic expressions covering his captors’ faces, the pain-induced fog clouding his vision whisked away at last. He stared, in absolute awe, at the silent, imposing figures towering him from each side of his body.

The hands holding him down lacked the elongated claws and purple skin Keith had grown used to seeing in their Galra enemies. The eyes — eerily opaque and devoid of any real emotion — didn’t possess that yellow, feline tint; the orbs were painted a stark white, the irises varied in different tones of green, blue and lavender. Slightly pointy ears burst from each side of their heads. And those were most _definitely_ not the faces of Galra soldiers.

They both had delicate, humanoid features, adorned with two small, glowing marks at the corner of each eye. Keith remembered seeing those in every Altean he had ever encountered before — Allura, Coran, Romelle —, each of them had an equal mark imprinted on the outer corner of their cheekbones. And, although, they varied in color, their shape and size were the same.

_Alteans_.

The realization resounded in Keith’s head.

_But how could it be?_

The Alteans from the lost colony had all but perished, consumed whole by Lotor               ’s mad desire to harness the purest quintessence in existence. Romelle had been the sole survivor of a ruined race, born amongst a people enslaved for thousands of years, only to be obliterated because of greed.

_But they are here_ , Keith added inwardly, thoughts reeling. _They didn’t die, they are_ here _._

Keith swallowed thickly.

Could they had been wrong? Was Lotor telling the truth regarding his plans? What he claimed he wanted to do with the quintessence? Could he had given it _back_ to the Alteans? Keith caught himself swimming in a sea of doubt. He no longer knew who had been telling the truth and who had been lying. Real or not real.

Countless questions were left unanswered. Had Lotor survived? Had he somehow managed to escape the quintessence field? Had he been the one who had ordered Keith’s capture?

Keith felt his eyebrows furrowing, jaw clenching as the beginning of a headache formed at his temples.

“Where are you taking me?” Keith asked, voice raspy and clipped. “Answer me.”

The words spilled carelessly from his lips, followed by a disturbing silence. For a moment, Keith thought the Altean guards wouldn’t deign him with a retort, another unanswered question to add to the ever-growing list in the confines of his mind.

“The Empress desires to see you, paladin.”

One of the Alteans spoke, at last. His voice had sounded nearly mechanical, leaving a cold trail on Keith’s skin.

_Empress?_

Keith wondered in silence, brows furrowed. He had barely any time to dwell on his most recent discovery before rough hands shoved him forward, through another pair of tall, metal doors. His knees buckled under the heavy weight, damaged from the strain it had sustained only moments ago. He hit the ground with a loud thud, hands splayed before his body, avoiding a fatal encounter of his face with the hard floor. Keith’s breathing hitched, palms throbbing after a rough landing.

“We have brought the prisoner. As requested, Your Majesty.”

The other Altean said, addressing the tall, looming figure standing before them.

From the corner of his eye, Keith caught a glimpse of the Alteans, both of their slim forms bending forward in clear sign of reverence. He frowned at the sight, confused. It was a strange concept to grasp, seeing Alteans addressing someone other than Allura — rightful princess of Altea — with such blind devotion. It felt wrong, wrong, wrong.

With difficulty, Keith lifted his head, a heavy weight settling between his hunched shoulders. He struggled to focus his eyes on the one they called Empress, a woman dressed in matted, dull tones. Purples and dark grays. She had her back turned to them, white hair cascaded down a pair of sharp shoulder blades. Head held high, built on angles and thin planes. Keith couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, entranced.

“You’ve done well.” she sounded like broken glass, all brittle edges. Keith flinched, as if he had been pierced through his ribcage. “Now, go. You’re both dismissed.”

The Alteans bowed one final time before leaving the two of them with nothing but the sound of the automatic doors closing. Keith waited for the inevitability of a confrontation, closing his hands into fists and squaring up his shoulders. He ignored the pain elicited from such an insignificant movement, schooling his features into a blank façade.

_Unknowable._

Ever so slowly, the woman began to turn around. Elegant arms and toned legs moved with an ever-present grace, something altogether foreign to Keith. He had only seen one other person move with such effortlessness, as if the air was constantly reforming around them, embracing their every gesture. A princess from a forgotten kingdom, with no subjects and no crown. The true ruler of the guards that awaited outside to bring him back to his cell once this so-called Empress decided she was done with him.

Keith hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath until his eyes landed on the woman’s gaunt face. Only then, did he allow himself to release a fresh puff of air through his chapped lips.

The first thought that crossed Keith’s mind at the unveiling of the mysterious commander was that she looked _tired_. She had dark circles drawn underneath her golden eyes, framed by a pair of thin, white brows. Her skin — once a rich, golden-brown color — appeared frail and ashen, as if it had lost all of its color throughout the years, ripped and pulled apart under thick lines that spurted from the corner of her eyes and mouth.

And then Keith caught sight of the Altean marks, eyes narrowing inquisitively. He frowned, studying the strange, slightly too-long markings that sprouted from her high cheekbones. They were unlike any Altean marks Keith had ever seen. Distorted, pulled too tight across her skin. It was just… _Wrong_.

“Hello, black paladin. It’s been a while.” the woman said, thin lips curling into a backwards smile. Keith tilted his head to the side, taken aback by her words. She let out a cold, hollow laugh. “Don’t you recognize me, paladin? Even after so many years fighting one another? I have to admit I’m slightly disappointed.”

Keith frowned in response, eyeing her carefully.

“How do you know me? Who _are_ you?” he asked, confusion seeping from his voice.

The wolfish grin on the woman’s lips widened, a row of white teeth glinting ominously in the dimly illuminated room. Keith stiffened as she began to descend the steps of the small pedestal where she had been standing with calm, collected strides.

Keith remained still, rooted to the same spot he had been forcefully put. He was quiet, lips sealed. His eyes followed her every movement, growing closer with each passing second.

A laughter erupted from her throat, ricocheting against the walls of the cavernous space Keith had been brought to. He shivered at the sound, cruel and inhuman. She stood before him now, kneeling down and tilting her head in a lupine manner.

“Open your eyes, paladin.” she said, cold breath scratching the side of his face. “And _see_.”

Her hands were on him, bony fingers brushing the outer edge of his jaw, nails grazing his earlobe as she forced his chin upward, golden eyes piercing into a starless midnight sky. Keith stiffened, refusing to meet her gaze. The woman only tightened her grip on him, burying her nails deeper into fair skin. Deep enough to draw blood.

“Let go…” Keith hissed, baring his teeth like some caged animal.

“What feeble creatures you humans are, how easily you become beasts.” she sneered, pressing harder, harder, harder. Until a faint whimper escaped Keith’s throat. “Or is it your Galra blood singing in your veins?”

In one swift movement, she had outstretched her hand, curling her fingers around his throat. Keith gasped, in desperate need of air, as she applied a heavy pressure on his trachea. His hands flew to his neck, an exasperated effort to break free from her choking hold.

The woman’s eyes locked with his and she kept on smiling, amused as Keith’s skin turned a sickly shade of purple. He scraped at the hands holding him down with blunt nails, eliciting barely any reaction from his captor.

“See, paladin.” she whispered, impossibly close to his face. Keith forced himself to look back, to _see_. “You’re not like your fellow paladins. You’re more than the rest of them combined. So much more. If you could only see…”

And, all of a sudden, she released him.

Keith fell flat on his back, breathing hard. His vision was stained with dark spots and his throat burned, as if he had swallowed liquid fire. He struggled to regain his breath, coughing and panting.

“Your human body is weak.” the woman’s voice came from somewhere above him. Reluctantly, Keith turned his head, catching a glimpse of her in his peripheral vision. “I wonder if you’ll survive what I have planned for you, paladin. If you will be enough.”

“Enough for what?” Keith asked, swallowing with difficulty.

“To bring my son back.”

“Your son?”

The question fell hesitantly from Keith’s lips as he watched the woman move across the room, carrying herself to one of the empty walls. With a quick flick of the wrist, she opened a hidden compartment, where inside laid a cryogenic chamber. The structure was big enough to fit a grown person, built in slick lines, polished chrome and translucent glass. Keith was reminded of the healing pods from the Castle of Lions, their designs eerily similar.

“Come closer.” she called from the other side of the room.

Keith blinked, utterly still. He wasn’t entirely sure he _could_ move with all the damage his body had sustained in such a short period of time. The extremities of his fingers still suffered from tiny seizures, unsteady.

“I said to _come closer._ ” she echoed. Not a request, but a command.

She moved her long fingers through the air and Keith felt his body surging forward without his explicit consent, the action abrupt. He was lifted from the ground, feet dangling from a couple meters above, floating. Keith’s eyes widened at the display of such power, how easily she mustered the dark energy capable of controlling his body, molding him to her liking. The woman curled her fingers into a loose fist and Keith was brought closer to where she stood, merely inches apart from the cold surface of the cryogenic chamber.

And, there, protected behind a thick wall of glass, was a face he recognized. Lush, lavender skin. Long, silvery white hair. A straight nose and a sharp jaw.

_Lotor._

Keith hadn’t noticed he had spoken out loud until a broken laughter reached his ears. The sound of her voice caused the hair in the nape of his neck to stand on end, the air drowning in electricity around them, negatively charged. Keith dared a look to the side, towards the self-proclaimed Empress.

_See…_

Keith had been blind. He had refused to see the signs, his vision tunneled out. About Acxa, about Lotor, about Haggar. But he had his eyes open now and he could see clearly, with perspective, as if a veil had been lifted from his eyelids.

“You.” Keith murmured, dangerously low. “It’s _you_. You’re Zarkon’s witch, the one they called Haggar.”

“I have had many names, paladin.” the witch began, her magical hold on him still strong, unwavering. “I was Haggar once, corrupted by druid magic, a puppet under Zarkon’s hand. Now I answer to no one else’s orders but my own.” she declared proudly. “I cut the strings that once restrained me and became someone else. Someone better. A leader to a lost people. Empress Honerva, mother of Prince Lotor, their savior.”

Keith narrowed his eyes back at her and a low growl rumbled from the confines of his chest.

“You’re no leader! You’re fooling those Alteans into believing in you, _trusting_ you.” he practically spat the words out, angry flames licking his veins. “They already have a ruler and her name is Allura. You are nothing but a farce.”

A shadow crossed Honerva’s features, her eyes turning dark before closing briefly. Keith choked on his own breath when those golden orbs stared back at him, glistening with a disturbing yellow glow. He was reminded then of the extent of her power as druid magic flared his senses, an outside presence tearing through his invisible defenses, rendering him broken and vulnerable.

A presence — sewn from the same thick, impenetrable black fabric as the outer space currently engulfing them — slipped through the cracks, filling Keith’s mind with images of sorrow and terror.

Keith cried out as he felt his mental barriers crumbling down, one by one. Ashes and ruins were laid bare before his feet. He was being unmade, pulled at the seams.

“You are not strong enough to fight me, paladin.” Honerva said as she violated his every thought, his every memory. Keith groaned in return, unable to find his voice amidst all the pain. “Did that princess of yours never taught you how to properly defend your mind? How careless of her. You have potential, I can sense it. But you lack training.”

“Get… Out… Of… My… Head.” Keith managed to get the words out through his teeth, jaw aching from the effort.

“There is no hiding from me, paladin. I can see _everything_.” she said. Her tone was frighteningly casual, bringing chills to Keith’s spine. “All the secrets you’ve kept locked deep inside, all your fears, all your pain. I see all of you, Keith Kogane.”

“N — No…”

Honerva exhaled, long and sharp.

“Your quintessence, it calls to me. Can you hear it? Oh, what a lovely sound.”

Keith could hear the smile on her voice as she spoke, how pleased she sounded. He felt bile climbing from his stomach, bitter and acid as it shot up his throat.

“What do you want from me?” Keith croaked out, panting hard.

“I want your life force, paladin.” she said. “I want all of you.”

Crushing pain seared through his nerves, a current arcing up, up, up. Keith felt his body being enveloped in a blanket of thrumming energy, his senses were suddenly on overload. The world around him was too loud, too bright, too much. He could feel everything.

Keith was lifted higher, thrown against a wall with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs, back colliding in a smooth surface with a dull thud. Keith’s head ricocheted back and forth, suffering from a brutal whiplash. He grunted some unintelligible curse under his breath as he swam in the after-shock waves from the impact.

Keith took a furtive glance at Lotor, laying strangely still at his side, as if frozen in time. He appeared unaffected by the prolonged exposure to quintessence during his time in the field, no doubt preserved under some druid spell. Keith stared back at Lotor’s sleeping figure, unblinking.

A distinct _click_ invaded Keith’s ears as the chamber’s locking mechanism worked. The glass wall protecting Lotor’s body retreated with a hissing sound and Keith felt a gust of cold air brush the side of his face.

He waited for a reaction from the mad prince, but there was nothing. His eyes were closed, his chest unmoving. There was no blood rushing to his face or air filling his lungs. Lotor was _dead_. He was nothing but an empty shell of the creature he used to be. Soulless. Void.

Honerva rested a hand on Lotor’s face, a touch filled with barely contained tenderness. Something akin to sadness flashed in her eyes, glistening with unshed tears. But it was gone as fast as it had come. Keith wasn’t entirely sure if he could trust his senses or if it had been a trick of the light.

She approached him after a moment of hesitation, her angular face invading his line of sight, lips stretched in a malicious grin. Keith inhaled sharply as her hand came to repose on his chest, just above his beating heart.

Keith recoiled under the weight of her palm, grinding his teeth as she stepped closer, tired eyes searching. He tried to pull his head back, to bury his face against the cold surface resting behind his back. With a sinking feeling, Keith came to understand those were all fruitless attempts. Honerva was stronger than him at his current state. She had him trapped in a magical cage, invisible shackles around his wrists and ankles.

“No quintessence is the same. Every living creature in the universe carries a particular energy inside them, no one is equal.” Honerva said. “But there can be similarities. Sometimes just enough for two beings to exchange such energy between them.”

“If you’re implying I share a similar energy to Lotor, you’re dead wrong.” Keith hissed. “We are nothing alike.”

“I’m afraid you’re the one mistaken.” Honerva retorted simply, matter of fact. “You’re both half-breeds. You too were abandoned as a young child by your mother. You too lived alone, wondering if you would ever find your place in the universe. And, more importantly, you are both Galra.”

“I don’t understand, I —”

“Of course you don’t. You still refuse to see your true potential.” Honerva interrupted him, pressing harder against his chest. Keith flinched. “You, Keith Kogane, have a special connection with quintessence. Your body answers differently to it. You can feel it, can’t you? This invisible calling, this longing for something other, something _more_.”

Keith’s frown deepened, lips pursing into a thin line.

“You got the wrong paladin.” he said stubbornly. “I’m not the one you’re looking for. I can’t feel _anything_. It’s Allura. She’s the one able to control quintessence, she’s the magical one. Not me.”

Honerva’s smile grew larger and Keith felt bile threatening once again to spill on his tongue. He swallowed thickly.

“That’s not entirely true, is it? You have felt a calling before, in the desert. I saw it in your memories.” she said, barely above a whisper. Keith tensed under her touch. “The Altean princess is powerful, there is no denying that. But I’m not looking for power. All this time I’ve been looking for someone with a very specific kind of quintessence, a regenerative kind. And that someone is _you_ , black paladin.”

An agonized scream tore through the back of Keith’s throat, pain-stricken sounds forcefully pulled from him, as Honerva’s dark magic pierced his chest, as sharp as a luxite blade. Keith took a moment to recognize the voice as his own, hoarse and breakable.

Keith felt the bones in his ribcage splinter, as if made of fragile glass, followed by a nauseating, familiar _crack_. He choked on his own breath, muscles paralyzed, suffering from an intense pain, ingrained deep in his heart.

He could almost picture Honerva’s fingers pulling tighter at the strings, applying enough force to break and shatter. The pain became a living, breathing beast inside him. It clawed and bit and ate at him, ravenous as it took and took and took.

And then he was falling.

Keith was on his back, laid flat against the floor, muscles trembling frantically as whispers of pain coursed through his body. His vision blurred, his heart slowed down, losing its impeccable rhythm, his blood ran in staccato tones in his veins. He closed his eyes, the spark burning inside him swallowed whole by tidal waves. His fire was slowly extinguished, leaving behind only embers and cold.

* * *

 

Keith’s world had been reduced to violence and pain. A cold surface persistently pressing on his back, electricity coursing through his bloodstream, silent explosions firing behind closed eyelids. He could feel every nerve of his body thrumming with energy, every bone breaking and shattering, every muscle melting, thoughts erased with a flick of a wrist.

Honerva had siphoned his quintessence nearly to completion. Over and over and over again. Seconds had stretched into minutes. Minutes became hours. Hours had quickly transformed into a small infinite. Keith was afloat in a deep sea, limbs flailing at his sides, skin drenched in agony. He was lost in a limbo, swimming in liquid nothingness. He dreamed of her hands pressed over his chest, sharp nails digging deep into flesh, aiming for his heart.

Keith felt the air being forced from his lungs once again and a moment later he was pulled under. He screamed, in pain or in blind rage, he no longer knew. His lungs filled with water. His eyes felt unbelievably heavy, arms and legs impossibly numb. Keith was a fighter, but his armor had brand-new ruptures running across its once gleaming surface and a sense of helplessness slipped through the crevices, cold arms cradling him to another dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

Keith had been trying to reach the Black Lion ever since he was brought back to his prison cell, pulling at the invisible threads holding them together with trembling fingers. But their connection had dampened with light-years of distance, no more than a flimsy, remote star shining in the dark. He reached deep into his core, where once a strange tingling sensation had taken root.

_Blue_ , Keith remembered.

She had compelled him to move closer to that cave, the only home she had known for thousands of years. She had brought the paladins of Voltron together once more. She had brought Lance.

Keith was transported back to the night they had met, whisked away by memories from many moons ago. He had never given much thought about the circumstances of their encounter, how terribly coincidental it all seemed. But there was no such thing as coincidence. There was a reason they collided into each other, some hidden truth written in silvery letters across the dark expanse of the night sky.

Lance had been the only constant in Keith’s life. The only one who had stayed. Even in the early days of their makeshift relationship, when he was nothing but the obnoxious cargo pilot, Keith could still see him there, lingering in a corner, an everlasting presence at his side. Years passed. Battles were fought. People left.

Except Lance.

He remained there, at Keith’s side. An unmovable object. A friend. An unattainable dream.

Keith had tried to smother that constricting feeling inside his heart, a blazing flame that drained all the air from his lungs. But one look in those ocean eyes and his bloodstream was filled with gasoline, fueling silent explosions in his chest cavity.

Keith felt his lips move as he called Lance’s name in the dark, his consciousness lost somewhere between fantasy and reality.

“What are you doing laying there on the floor, hotshot?”

Keith stirred from his reverie, lifting his head to meet the bluest eyes he had ever seen. A constellation of stars painted those delicate cheekbones in the form of a thousand tiny freckles. Even amidst the shadows, his skin appeared to shine, illuminated from the inside. Something warm filled Keith’s chest at the sight of Lance’s sudden apparition.

“Lance?” he asked in a small voice, dripping with uncertainty.

Lance smiled and Keith felt as if a summer breeze had wrapped him in its warm embrace. Lance was light personified, the brightest star in the sky. Keith thought he must be dreaming. That was the only plausible explanation for Lance to be smiling down at him, the softest look in those eyes of his.

_A dream,_ he reminded himself. _I’m dreaming._

“What? A couple of days away in outer space and you don’t know who I am anymore?” Lance teased, smile still plastered on his face, a pair of dimples at the edge of his lips. Keith stared back, slack-mouthed. “I have to say, I’m a little disappointed at you, Keith.”

Keith let out a shaky breath.

“Are you really here?”

Lance moved from the corner of the room, swimming through the shadows until he was kneeling down beside Keith’s limp body, eyeing him carefully. Keith inhaled sharply when Lance touched the side of his face, brushing the pinkish skin of the scar imprinted there with the tip of his fingers.

“Can you feel that?” Lance asked in a soft voice, low and patient.

Keith took his own hand to his face, intertwining their fingers together, musing over how perfectly they fit into one another. He longed for Lance’s warmth, for the salt in his skin, the truth in his eyes. But he was met with cold. Emptiness. Nothing.

_A dream._

“No.” Keith breathed out.

“I believe this answer your question.”

 Lance’s lips curled into an impossibly sad smile and Keith leaned into the imaginary touch, craving for something that wasn’t real. Something that would never be real.

“Am I going mad?” he asked instead. “I heard stories from some of the members of the Blade. How they would slowly lose their minds whenever they got captured, how lonely it could be.”

“You’re not losing your mind, Keith.” Lance snorted, rolling his eyes. Keith felt the urge to laugh at his antics. That Lance might not be real, but he acted just like him. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the dramatic one.”

Keith chewed nervously on his bottom lip, cursing under his breath as his teeth opened old wounds. Salt and iron danced on his tongue.

“Why are you here, Lance?”

“You tell me, Keith.” he retorted, lying on his back on the floor, arm brushing against Keith’s. “I’m a figment of _your_ imagination, remember?”

Keith had no answer to that question and the cell was suddenly enveloped in blissful silence. He had always enjoyed the quiet. Growing up in the houses of countless strangers, stuck in foster care, Keith had craved for a space of his own. For peace and calm. For something that would be his and his alone. But nothing ever belonged to him. He had to share his meals, his clothes, his thoughts. So, when Shiro came and took him away from the noise, offering him a home and a family, he went willingly, without looking behind.

At the Galaxy Garrison he finally knew silence. In the late nights he spent awake in his dorm room, in the vastness of the arid desert, in the stars painting the night sky, in the tranquil afternoons he spent with Shiro and Adam.

But silence had been a fleeting moment in his life and chaos the only constant. Soon, the balance Keith had so carefully built was disturbed under a pair of sun-kissed hands and cobalt blue eyes. In Lance’s presence, silence withered and died, replaced by his abrasive, blossoming nature.

Keith turned his head to the side, trailing the lines of Lance’s profile with his eyes. He was beautiful. Keith thought that if people were a work of art, Lance would be a masterpiece with his long lashes and full lips. Eyes that enraptured. Soft, dark strands of hair. Naturally tanned skin, smooth to the touch.

And the answer fell from his lips.

“I was thinking of you.” he whispered, eyes following Lance’s every movement as he turned his head to meet his gaze.

Lance buried his fingers gently through Keith’s thick locks of hair, playing with the tangled strands at the nape of his neck. Keith trembled beneath his touch, a trail of scorch marks left behind on his skin.

_It isn’t real_.

Keith had to remind himself, even though he wished it was. His eyes locked with Lance’s, indigo and blue. An intoxicating guilt consumed him, growing heavy at the base of his stomach, weighting him down, down, down.

_It isn’t real._

A shuddering breath escaped Lance’s parted lips the moment Keith pulled away from him, rebuilding the distance that once existed between their bodies, brick by brick. He noticed how those long, clumsy fingers reluctantly withdrew, curling into a loose fist.

“It isn’t real.” Keith whispered, closing his eyes with force. “You’re not real.”

“Keith —”

“Go away, Lance.” he cut him short, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. “Go away.”

Keith’s breath came out in ragged pants of air and his lips trembled, feeling uncharacteristically small. He sounded terribly weak as Lance’s name rolled out of his tongue, harder than before, demanding a strength he was no longer certain he possessed.

And he hated it.

When he opened his eyes again there was no one else in the cell alongside him. The image of Lance had faded, taking the warmth away with him. A trick of his imagination. An illusion. A state of madness. He was alone, as he always had been. And Lance — the _real_ Lance — was probably still on Earth with Allura, as it would always be. Keith swallowed thickly, choosing to ignore the crushing disappointment. He was tired of watching the only people he ever cared about leave him behind.

First, it had been his mother.

Then, his father.

Shiro.

Adam.

_Lance_ …

Keith sighed.

“I’ll find my way back to you, Lance.” he said softly, a silent promise. “To the real you.”

A now familiar whooshing sound resonated across the small prison cell. Purple light pierced Keith’s eyes, filtering through the open doors. He barely had any time to react before the same Altean guards from before dragged him outside.

Keith fought against his restraints, but the guards hit him again with another one of those electrical waves, rendering him immobilized by pain, gasping and aching. Boneless. He wondered how many more times would he attempt to escape only to have his hopes crushed under the heavy weight of reality.

He was taken to the same room from the previous day, where he had first come face to face with Empress Honerva. And, just like last time, she was already there, waiting for him to initiate another round of torture. Keith shuddered at the thought, ghostly fingers running down his spine.

Honerva turned around and smiled, sharp canines fully exposed. Keith forced himself to look her in the eye, lifting his chin in silent defiance. He refused to break. His core was made out from the hardest diamond, marrow shaped after the sharpness of luxite blades.

He had made a promise and he intended to keep it.

_I’ll find my way back._

Honerva dismissed the guards with a single flick of her wrist and the doors closed behind them, muffling the sound of his screams.

* * *

 

Keith was laid out on a metal table, taken down and pulled apart, piece by piece, limb from limb. The pain was a sharp, overwhelming thing.

He watched with bleary eyes as Honerva performed some intricate alchemical ritual to transfer Keith’s quintessence into Lotor’s lifeless form, whispering sacred words, hands blazing with blue fire.

“H — How long?” Keith managed to ask, flinching from his sore throat.

Honerva’s hands returned to their natural ashen color, fire extinguishing from the tip of her fingers as those piercing eyes landed on his damaged body. She tilted her head to the side as she regarded him with an analytical gaze.

“Did you say something, paladin?”

Keith swallowed hard, forcing his vocal chords to work again. His throat burned with each word, scratching every syllable.

“How long until you realize he’s not gonna wake up?” he asked. Honerva’s eyes widened a fraction. And then he delivered the final blow. “Lotor is dead.”

The witch shook her head, seemingly only mildly annoyed. A resigned sigh left her thin lips. The chamber encapsulating Lotor’s body closed once again, returning to stasis mode. Keith heard footsteps approaching, but there was nothing in his peripheral vision. Cold seeped under his skin, freezing the blood in his veins.

“I will have my son back.” Honerva said with firm conviction, suddenly appearing at Keith’s side, long nails grazing the scar on his face. “And once we’re reunited, no one will be able to stop us. Nothing will stand in our path towards glory.”

“You’ll have to kill me first.” Keith said in a clipped tone, voice cracking under the strain.

Honerva let out a short, humorless chuckle. She trailed Keith’s jaw line with her nail, leaving a single trail of blood in its wake. A line of scarlet, dripping towards his neck, staining the gray suit he had been wearing ever since his arrival. Keith hissed in response, barely succeeding at pulling his head away.

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you, paladin.” she said close to his ear, as if sharing a secret. “I have other plans for you. _This_ , is only the beginning.”

A door opened and closed.

Keith heard footsteps echoing against the floor, distant at first, but growing steadily closer. He hadn’t realized he had his eyes closed until purple light slowly slipped through the crevices between heavy eyelids. How long had he been there, sprawled on that table? Body and mind on display? Dissected, the air choked from his lungs, his life force drained. The fight within himself gone.

“Did you summon me, Your Majesty?”

Keith frowned, taken aback by the familiarity with which that voice spoke. He remembered hearing it before. Chancing a look around, Keith’s eyes caught sight of Acxa purposefully making her way to where he had been strapped against a bare metal table, no more than an experiment, probed and broken under Honerva’s influence. She slipped in and out of his peripheral vision, face stoic, eyes hard as stones as she inspected Lotor’s unresponsive figure at his side.

“Yes.” Honerva’s voice came from somewhere behind Keith, her tone hard. “Have you encountered the others? Ezor and Zethrid?”

“Not yet, Your Majesty. But I did find a lead that could take us to where they’ve been hiding.” Acxa replied, voice mechanical, a soldier addressing her superior.

There was a pause and then Acxa filled Keith’s line of sight once again, her eyes darting towards him for one fleeting moment. He glared back at her, closing his hands into fists at his sides, knuckles turning a pale white.

“Excuse me, Empress Honerva.” Acxa began tentatively. “But could you tell me how much more should we wait until Prince Lotor wakes up?”

“Not long.” Honerva said. “You’ve done well to bring this boy to me. I was right, after all. His quintessence is compatible to Lotor’s.”

Acxa gave her a firm nod, hands carefully hidden behind her back, shoulders squared. But her eyes betrayed her, constantly trailing a dangerous path back to where Keith was laying. Something shifted in her features, barely perceptible under the dim purple light.

“What is going to happen to him?” Acxa asked, looking away from Keith.

Honerva circled him around the table, golden eyes fixed on his. A ghost of a smile haunted her lips and from the corner of his eye, Keith saw a blue glow on the palm of her hand. For a moment, he thought she would drain him of his quintessence again, but the pain never came.

“Nothing for you to be concerned about.” Honerva told Acxa, a hidden warning behind the words. Acxa appeared to have understood, retreating. “You can leave now, soldier. You have already given me what I wanted.”

Keith could see hesitation etched in each of Acxa’s muscles as she forced her body to bend forward in a quick bow before turning away.

Honerva stood beside the table, staring at Keith with morbid interest. She raised her glowing hand and Keith’s eyes widened as he noticed the formless entity floating above her open palm, shimmering in hues of blue and red.

“What is this?” Keith asked, recoiling from Honerva’s touch.

She spared him a wolfish grin, white teeth shimmering in the dark. Her hand came to rest on his chest and the simple gesture was enough to urge Keith to shrink in his restraints.

“This,” she began, pressing down harder onto his ribs. “Is your becoming.”

Ice seeped through Keith’s veins. A shiver ran through the entirety of his spine, followed by a powerful physical tremor, so painful it felt almost as if his body was being turned inside out. Keith tried to scream, but his voice died in his throat. Honerva placed the entity above his chest, where her hand had been laying. Keith’s heart accelerated, pulse galloping in his own ears. He inhaled sharply, enraptured by a strong scent of iron.

A voice spoke in the back of his mind.

_Keith._

He closed his eyes as a peculiar sense of peace overcame him. Behind his eyelids, Keith saw himself on the summit of a mountain, dark sky expanding for miles behind his back and the world at his feet. He looked below, calm and collected. For the first time during the short span of his life, Keith felt under control. There was no blinding rage burning deep in his core. No emptiness in his heart. No fear in his mind. Everything belonged to him, such was the extent of his power.

A presence appeared at his side, long fingers intertwined against his. A perfect fit. Then a voice spoke in his head, terribly familiar, crawling under his skin and running with his blood. Once repelled, now part of who he had become. Slowly, his resolve drowned, disappearing into the darkness. Keith opened his eyes and standing at his side he saw the face that haunted his every dream, the personification of his every desire. Luminous, olive skin. Short, brown hair. Ocean, blue eyes.

Lance sent a bright smile in Keith’s direction and all he was made quiet once again.

Keith wished he knew how to ignore the darkness that flickered at the edge of his vision, but the shadows closed in around him and he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Ideas? Or do you just feel like killing me for putting poor Keith through all... That?


	6. part vi - falling and lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance turned around, beautiful in his equally hideous orange uniform. Under a cloudless, blue sky his blue eyes shone impossibly bright. And in that moment, Keith loved him.  
> He loved him, he loved him, he loved him.  
> He loved the shape of his hands, delicate and strong at the same time. He loved the way his uniform wrapped around his upper arms and torso, and he loved the slight upturn curve at the tip of his nose.  
> Keith collided against Lance in an explosion of arms and ragged breaths, collapsing onto the slim body pressed close to his. He could smell the sea in his hair and the desert in his skin and he buried his fingers in the nape of his neck, brushing soft curls to expose warm, naked skin. His lips explored a dangerous path down a sharp jawline, travelling upwards across the angles of the face that haunted his every dream, climbing over high cheekbones before finding solace on the slope of his neck, where shoulder met clavicle.  
> “Lance, Lance, Lance.” Keith murmured, vocabulary reduced to a single word, lips grazing the soft skin of his earlobe. He felt Lance shiver under his touch. It felt real. “Lance, is this really you? Are you really here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> First, I want to apologize because this chapter is a monster jfdkf seriously it's HUGE and i'm so sorry for that but I couldn't contain myself, even though it was really hard to get it done. Who would have thought that writing in Keith's POV would be this hard? Well, I didn't fkdjfk  
> And second, I think we reached the half of this story yay!  
> The title comes from the song 'Someone to stay' from Vancouver Sleep Clinic. Don't hesitate to leave comments and kudos if you like!

**part vi**

**falling and lonely**

* * *

_You were alone, left out in the cold_

_Clinging to the ruin of your broken heart  
You were falling and lonely, cry out:_

_Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope?_

_The end of the day, I’m helpless_

_Can you keep me close? Can you love me most?_

* * *

 

Keith’s thoughts were constantly drifting towards a pair of blue eyes and a constellation of freckles spread across sun-kissed cheekbones. Life worked in strange, mysterious ways. Before, he couldn’t have cared less about who Lance McClain was, barely putting enough effort to remember the name. Now, he was the sole thought roaming around inside his head, a ghost in a haunted house.

He couldn’t remember a time when Lance wasn’t an everlasting presence at his side, grounding him to the present when chaos raged in the depths of his core, wild and unbound. Keith had craved for space and quiet ever since he was a little boy, lost in a cruel world. He was familiar with grief, grown as an orphan. He had experienced nothing but excruciating pain his entire life. Never wanted, never needed, never enough. He was born with tragedy in his blood, cursed to spend eternity searching for _more_.

Lonesome.

Unlovable.

Broken beyond repair.

And there he was, sitting amidst the shadows, drowning in silence. He had finally gotten everything he had ever wished for, but an uncomfortable sensation crawled under his skin and all Keith wanted to do was find a way back. Back to the noise, back to the chaotic routine he had grown used to at the Castle of Lions, back to a place where he could hear Lance’s boisterous laughter echoing through the walls. He wanted to go back to that moment in time before everything changed.

But he was stuck.

His mind was being slowly consumed by thoughts of Lance, his body longed for the warm touches of tanned skin, his heart was ravished by a growing hunger deep inside. He craved just one touch. A ghostly brush of lips against lips.

A kiss.

All he wanted was a taste of Lance, fleeting and feathery. But enough to satiate him for the remaining of his life. All he needed was a kiss and he would die a happy man.

Keith sighed, closing his eyes.

Death waited for no one, he should know that by now. It hadn’t waited for his father, it hadn’t waited for Shiro, nor for Adam. Why would it treat him any differently?

Dangerous thoughts echoed in the cavernous space inside his skull, words that lost their meaning with each wave of sound, until they were nothing but foreign symbols dancing behind closed eyelids. Keith could feel his mouth moving, lips parting a small fraction. He heard his own voice — distant and weak — ringing in his ears, calling for a familiar name in the dark.

Lance’s name tasted like heaven on his tongue and he couldn’t bring himself to swallow the whispered pleas of a desperate soul. Will Lance feel when he’s gone? When there’s nothing left of him in this universe? Will any of the paladins feel anything? Will they mourn him? Keith wondered, thoughts floating in a murky sea of doubt, troubled with fear.

Keith released a sharp breath and his back was pressed against a warm body. With a jolt of surprise, he felt a powerful shiver coursing through his entire being. A molten, searing creature chewed him up from the inside, setting his heart on flames. Liquid fire licked the walls of his veins, running along his bloodstream. Hands touched his neck. Soft, smooth hands; with long fingers and perfectly trimmed nails. Keith allowed himself to drown in the warmth, achingly familiar arms enveloping him in an intimate embrace.

He sighed longingly.

The hands that touched him stilled for a brief moment, suspended in time, and a low chuckle invaded Keith’s ear. Blinding light filled his dark interior, as bright as the birth of a supernova. Keith sank into the source of such a magnificent sound, pressing harder against the presence resting at his back, face buried between his shoulder blades.

“I’ve missed this.” Keith murmured gently.

He had his eyes still closed, lips curled in a small smile. There was movement behind him and, all of a sudden, the air shifted around them. Keith shuddered as fingers were replaced by a pair of plump, soft lips. His mouth moved before his brain was able to fully compute the action, opening wide as a tiny gasp escaped past his lungs.

A body thrummed with barely contained laughter behind Keith, lips still pressed against the side of his neck, where his frantic pulse could be felt. Blood pumped, loud and strong. Warm breath grazed the tender skin of his earlobe and a deep-rooted, primal _want_ fueled his senses. A shapeless beast pushed hard against the bones in his ribcage, craving release. Keith caught himself arching his back, driven by some instinctual _need,_ longing to _touch_. Bare skin brushing against bare skin. A trail of scorching kisses was left on his neck. A symphony of ragged pants of air echoed in his ear. It was heaven and hell and everything in between, body consumed by a nearly painful desire to touch and be touched.

“Lance…”

Keith exhaled, voice hoarse and incredibly low, barely recognizable. Lance released a short laugh in response, no more than a summer breeze blown at the nape of his neck.

“You can have this any time you want.” he whispered, a glint of maliciousness dripping from his voice. Keith shivered, body trembling beneath Lance’s lips. “I’m a creation of your imagination, remember? It’s all inside that pretty head of yours.”

Keith tensed at Lance’s words, forcing his eyes open as he swallowed the lump lodged at the base of his throat.

_It’s not real_ , he reminded himself and a terrible weight settled above his chest, constricting his lungs. Keith hissed through the pain, dropping his gloved hands onto his lap, resignation filling the empty spaces between muscle and bone.

“You’re not really here.” Keith said out loud and his voice was carried across the small prison cell, reverberating against the metal walls. “It’s just a dream.”

Keith wished he knew how to love Lance. He wished he was allowed such a privilege. To love with everything he kept buried inside. To love fully, with no boundaries, instead of living in fear of the inevitable fall. He wished he knew how to love Lance the way he deserved to be loved, deep and all-consuming.

But all Keith had learned was a corrupted kind of love, tormented with sorrow and loss. And he thought that perhaps the Lance from his dreams was the only version of the tempestuous boy he would ever be allowed to have. Because real things were not meant for people like him. Damaged people. Broken people.

Lance should be running away from him, as far as those dark blue eyes could see, never to turn back. But, instead, he pressed one last kiss on Keith’s fiery skin, just above a hidden spot behind his ear, only partially visible behind a dark veil of hair. Only then, did he reluctantly pull away. Once their bodies were no longer touching, Keith released a strangled breath. Some of the weight appeared to have been lifted from his chest, tension spilled freely from his sore muscles.

“Does it really matter if I’m real or not?” Lance asked, half whisper and half plea. Keith swallowed thickly. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Keith turned his entire body around, laying on his side against the hard ground as his eyes landed on the Lance concocted by his own twisted mind. A mirage. An oasis in the middle of a dry desert. He mirrored Lance’s stance, resting a hand underneath his cheek as if to prevent direct contact with the cold surface.

Keith dived into the blue waves crashing in Lance’s eyes, swimming in unrelenting strokes as he desperately tried to outrun the storm looming ahead. But the current was unforgiving, pulling Keith under and stealing his breath away with inviting lips and golden-brown skin. They stared at each other in the dimly illuminated room, long and hard.

Unblinking.

Achingly.

Longingly.

Keith was the first to break the silence. He sounded alien to his own ears, voice coming out in raged, raspy tones.

“Except you’re not.” he breathed out, reaching towards Lance to brush away a loose brown curl that had fallen on his creased forehead. “Not really.”

Lance looked back at him, uncharacteristically quiet. Salty tears threatened to spill from the edges of those bright, blue eyes. Keith fought against the urge to touch freckled cheekbones, desperate to catch each of those droplets on the tip of his fingers.

“Keith…”

Lance called out his name. Again, and again. The raw emotion imbued in that single word pierced through the flimsy fabric of Keith’s under suit until it came into contact with scarred, white skin. An invisible blade that had ripped him open in one single, clean blow, leaving his beating heart exposed.

Keith imagined long canines sinking into soft tissue, white painted an ugly shade of red, chin dripping with a dark, viscous fluid as his heart was eaten whole, bite after bite.

A tuneless chorus of _“Keith, Keith, Keith”_ resounded in the back of his head, tearing a hole in his skull. Keith closed his eyes tightly, covering both of his ears with trembling hands. But the sound only grew stronger, sharper, loud enough to hurt.

Keith blinked awake and all he saw was darkness.

Shadows surrounded his numb body, sprawled somewhere on the floor. He couldn’t remember the exact moment he had fallen asleep, memories no more than a blurred mess. Rubbing his eyes from the remnants of sleep weighting down on his eyelids, Keith inspected his surroundings. Small flecks of purple light came through the cracks beneath the doors and four sterile walls stared back at him, a sight that had grown to be familiar.

With something akin to disappointment settling on the base of his stomach, Keith realized he was back in his prison cell. Completely and utterly alone.

Lance had all but faded from reality, his bright smile existing only in a faraway corner in the labyrinth of Keith’s mind.

A thick, metal wall collided against his shoulder blades as he propped himself into a seating position, head thrown back and neck exposed. With his eyes closed, Keith released a tired sigh. Exhaustion dragged on his every limb, arms and legs as heavy as lead. His ears picked up on the sounds of the ship. Distant footsteps, the hiss of automatic doors opening and closing, the persistent hum of an engine.

He didn’t know for how long he had been held captive aboard that ship, treated as nothing more than a scientific experiment. A lab rat, intriguing and yet disposable. It was only a matter of time before Honerva decided he was no longer needed. Soon, she would succeed in awakening Lotor from his deep slumber with some kind of resurrection ritual and on that day, Keith would be deemed worthless. He would most likely be thrown into outer space, lost to the endless void.

Keith’s mind reeled as countless thoughts flashed before his eyes in rapid succession.

How long could a human body sustain without oxygen? Keith wasn’t entirely sure.

_Not long_ , he thought.

He had never really paid much attention to classes back at the Garrison, always too busy thinking about what would be like to fly amongst the stars.

Keith winced as he tried to move, hit by a sudden flare of pain. He gritted his teeth as his mind traveled back in time, to the moment Honerva had pressed her bony fingers against his chest, entering his mind and probing at his soul.

She had seen everything. Every secret, every dream, every memory. He seethed, consumed with blind rage at the thought. Vulnerability was not something he knew how to handle well, constantly struggling to bury it deep inside, to remain unseen.

But Honerva had found all of his hidden places, shedding a distorted light to all the dark corners in his mind.

All except for _one_.

Keith let out another low, hissing sound as his fingers grazed over the coarse material of his under suit, where his heart was still beating. His nerve endings were caught on fire, burning bright and hot, clouding his thoughts with white smoke. Keith closed his hands into fists, somehow still managing to breathe through the pain.

And, then, a voice — too feminine to belong to Lance, too young to belong to the Altean witch — called for him. Keith narrowed his eyes to the side, vision adjusting to the darkness.

“Keith, can you hear me?”

A silhouette approached, body built on slim curves and toned muscle. Keith recognized that voice from one of his nightmares. A voice that once belonged to a friend, but now only reminded him of hurt and betrayal.

Keith clenched his jaw, shoulders stiffening as a wave of recognition washed him away.

“What are you doing here, Acxa?” he spat out, refusing to look her in the eyes.

Acxa paused, lips pursed as she mulled over Keith’s words. Dark brows furrowed against light, blue skin.

“I’ve brought you some food. I thought you might be hungry.” she said, tone casual.

Keith shook his head in response.

“That’s not what I meant.” he said. “What are you doing _here_? In this ship.”

Only then did Keith decide to grant her with a glare. His semblance was hard as he studied Acxa, eyes as sharp as luxite blades. There were no stars shining in the twilight sky of Keith’s eyes, frighteningly opaque and empty.

Acxa parted her lips with reluctance, throat bobbing up and down as she struggled to swallow. The bowl resting between her hands laid forgotten, food growing cold with each passing second.

She sighed.

“I’m sorry, Keith.”

Keith scoffed, unconvinced. Beside him, Acxa flinched slightly.

“No, you’re not.” he said in a stern voice, refusing to break eye contact. “If you were truly sorry, you wouldn’t have come here to bring me food. You would be here to break me free.”

“It’s not that simple. Honerva, she’s —”

“I don’t care what your excuses are.” Keith cut her short. Acxa’s lips snapped shut. “You lied to me, Acxa. I trusted you and you _lied_ to me.”

“Keith, please, listen —”

“I don’t wanna hear it! Do you have any idea what it has been like? Do you even care enough to know what Honerva does to me every time those doors close?” Keith could hear his own voice breaking, cracks appearing at the end of each word, temper rising. Acxa remained utterly still, frozen in place. “I thought you had changed, Acxa. But I guess I was wrong.”

An intake of breath, dragging out in time. Silence settled between the two of them, tension hovering in the air.

Acxa started moving again a moment later, kneeling to the floor only to deposit the now cold bowl on the space next to where Keith was laying. He followed her movements with his eyes, but left the bowl untouched.

“You need to eat.” she said simply, standing back up. “Keep your body strong and your mind sharp.”

A second passed in quietness.

Keith could barely feel his lips moving as he spoke again.

“What’s the point? I’m gonna die in here once Honerva gets what she wants.” he mumbled, sounding defeated.

Acxa stopped mid-step, turning her head around to look down at Keith. She had her brows furrowed, a puzzled expression covering her face. Keith felt a peculiar prickling sensation crawl at the tip of his fingers, a wicked feeling lurking on the inside. Her entire body language lit up warning lights before his eyes.

“You know something, don’t you?” he asked, eyeing her carefully.

Acxa lowered her head a fraction, averting her gaze from Keith’s sharp eyes. He noticed her hands closing into fists at the sides of her body, lips pressed together in a grim line.

“Acxa —”

“If I tell you, she will know.” Acxa’s tone was clipped, jaw clenched tight. “I’m sorry, Keith. I really am, but I made an oath to protect my prince, with my own life if need be, and I don’t plan on breaking that vow.”

Keith blinked, frowning.

“Your prince?” he echoed, understanding slowly smoothing the creased lines on his forehead. “You did all this because of some twisted notion of loyalty towards _Lotor_?”

“I gave him my word, Keith.”

Acxa insisted but Keith could hear nothing above the loud static of white noise, vision turning a furious red around the edges.

Keith thought he knew pain. But he had been wrong.

The pain he had experienced before was nothing compared to _this_. It had been a fleeting nightmare, a featherlight touch. Betrayal had left a permanent scar in his heart, a lasting bitterness on his tongue. Keith felt almost as if he had been stabbed, a friendly hand around the hilt of a blade, digging it deeper, deeper, deeper. It burned and ached and tore him apart.

“I thought you of all people would understand. I know you, Keith. You would have done the same.” Acxa murmured, but her voice rang loudly in Keith’s ears. He lifted his head to meet her eyes, a blank expression imprinted on his face. “You and I are the same. We were both born to be protectors, our sense of loyalty will always be our undoing.”

Keith bared his teeth in a vicious snarl. Acxa didn’t even flinch, standing impossibly still, shoulders squared and chin lifted in an arrogant curve.

“I am nothing like you. I would never betray my friends the way you did.” Keith hissed.

There was a small change in Acxa’s features, the edges of her mouth lifting an infinitesimal amount. It wasn’t meant to be a smile, Keith knew, and yet the gesture seemed oddly comforting. He felt his stomach churn at the sight, drowning in melancholia.

“You already have, the moment you chose to leave Voltron for the Blade of Marmora.” she said, matter of fact. Keith thought he felt the imaginary knife being buried deeper between his shoulder blades, making it nearly impossible for him to move. “I know that because I could always see the guilt in your eyes every time we sparred, how differently you acted around them. Around Lance.”

Ice crept through all the microscopic pores dotting Keith’s body, muscles becoming rigid at the mention of Lance, blood freezing inside his veins. He cursed his traitorous body, praying to some intergalactic entity for Acxa to turn a blind eye to the truth about his feelings, hoping she wouldn’t see how much he cared, how much love he had buried deep inside him.

But the truth was laid bare before her, written all over his face.

“You — How did you —” Keith stammered rather pathetically.

“You were calling out his name in your sleep.” Acxa provided as explanation. Keith opened his mouth, but his voice got stuck in his throat. “What would you do, Keith? If you had a chance to get back to him?”

Keith thought of ocean eyes, soft brown curls being blown by a gust of wind, a constellation of stars painting perfectly curved cheekbones, a smile so bright it could light up the entire universe. He thought of all the little things that made Lance unique, all the complex connections his body was built on, all the sounds that escaped past those lips, often times loud and occasionally obnoxious but always _his_ and no one else’s.

Keith thought about Lance — he had been doing that quite a lot lately — and the answer rolled easily from his tongue.

“Everything.” he whispered, voice small but unwavering. A constricting certainty pressed at his heart. There was no point in lying anymore. “I would do everything for him.”

Acxa seemed satisfied with Keith’s reply, nodding silently. A tiny smile still lingered on those dark lips, a shadow of the real thing.

“Then you understand.” she said, slow and deliberate. “I did what I had to do in order to get Lotor back and I would gladly do it again.”

Keith gave her a small nod, eyes focused solely on hers.

“I understand.” he paused, breathing in. “But I can’t forgive you.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to.” Acxa confessed, resigned.

Keith gulped audibly before speaking.

“Go away, Acxa.” he averted his eyes then, fixating his dark gaze on the wall farthest from where he stood. “I want to be alone.”

She turned to leave, hesitating for an instant before unlocking the doors, hand hovering above the mechanical panel.

A heartbeat passed in silence.

“He’s more than that.” Acxa whispered into nothingness. When Keith didn’t respond, she continued. “I know Lotor. He’s not like his father. There’s still good inside him, I know it.”

Silence lingered in the space between them. Keith still refused to look back at her and Acxa remained with her feet rooted just before the doors, hand frozen mid-movement.

“You’re going to see him again, your Lance.” Acxa said, stepping through the doors a moment later.

Her words tasted like damnation in Keith’s mouth, stirring something in his core. He wrapped his fingers around them, catching the words in a vice grip, as if those letters were the only thing keeping him afloat in the middle of a storm breaking at the sea.

_You’re going to see him again._

And he had to believe he would.

So, he did.

* * *

 

Keith had been trying to count how many days had passed since he was taken from Earth. How many days he had spent deprived of a friendly face, of a pair of the bluest eyes, of familiar voices. How many days had he gone by away from home, away from family?

He had given up eventually, memories still a blurred mess of echoes and colors. The bowl Acxa had brought him earlier laid forgotten at his side, empty. He could barely remember what the fluid inside tasted like, only that it seemed to appease the growing hunger in his stomach.

And that’s when the doors to his cell burst open, revealing the frames of two Altean guards. Keith held his breath as he painstakingly propped himself up, leaning his shoulder against the wall to keep him from falling. The guards marched with determined strides towards him, wrapping strong fingers around his arms and dragging him outside.

For a moment, Keith had been afraid his legs would give out from under the weight of his body, but somehow, he managed to walk — or more like, trudged — the entire way to Honerva’s torture chamber. A pair of towering metal doors opened before them and Keith was carelessly thrown inside, knees buckling under the strain and meeting the cold floor on a dull impact. Keith bit his bottom lip to prevent a pain-stricken noise to leave his mouth. Behind him, the doors closed.

He gritted his teeth as Honerva yielded her dark magic around him, forcing her way through his mental barriers, trespassing sacred ground. Keith buried his teeth deeper into his lip, with enough force to break skin and draw blood, but anything was preferable to crying out in agony before those cruel, yellow eyes. Keith refused to give Honerva the satisfaction of seeing him breaking. He still had some fight left in him. A dying spark.

A bright smile cut through the fabric of darkness painting the atmosphere black. It was a perverted thing to see, all sharp teeth and an even sharper laugh.

“Have you missed me, paladin?” Honerva asked, as if she had been regarding an old friend. Keith snarled in return, trying to fight the magical restraints. Her laughter grew louder, brighter. “When are you going to learn? You can’t fight me. My magic is stronger than you’ll ever be.”

“Why are you doing this?” a hoarse voice left Keith’s mouth between ragged breaths.

“Because you, paladin, have so much potential hidden inside.” she said, raising both hands in the air. Keith felt the foreign energy course around him, down his arms and legs, lifting him up from the floor. “I discovered that pain is the most efficient catalyst to awaken those dormant abilities.”

Keith felt winded, like his muscles were clipped by thousands of wires, prodding through every microscopic pore as they held the pieces of him together. His strength was nothing but a fleeting memory. His resolve running away like mercury.

He was breaking, again and again. The pieces scattered across the floor, lost; never to remade.

Keith licked his trembling bottom lip, tasting blood. His ears were filled with the sounds of his screams. Mouth parted open, vocal chords pulled tightly, threatening to break. Another failed attempt at protecting himself from Honerva’s unnerving gaze as she continuously inflicted lasting bruises in his body, mind and soul. Wounds that never healed. Opened and reopened in furious waves. An everlasting cycle.

Somewhere, in his peripheral vision, Keith had spotted Lotor’s cryogenic chamber and his sleeping form still laying inside. Unchanged. Still frozen. Still dead. He thought about Acxa and her unwavering trust that he would return to her. He thought about the last words that had left her mouth. A promise burned in his heart.

_You’re going to see him again._

Keith thought about Lance.

It was just a spark, barely enough to illuminate the tendrils of darkness crawling around his throat, pressing harder against frail bones. But it kept on glowing. A blue flame, driving the shadows far, far away. His wounds still burned, pain still coursed through his veins, blood still pumped loud and clear in his ears.

Hope was a thin, fragile thing.

Keith reached for it, but try as he might, his trembling fingers could never hold it. Not for long, at least.

Fear was thicker.

It was like blood, viscous and dark.

And he drowned in it.

Keith closed his eyes and fell, pretending for one moment that there was someone down below, waiting to catch him.

* * *

 

Every night, Keith would collapse onto the cold, hard floor of his prison cell. Body shivering, stomach lurching, mind reeling from vivid memories of pain. Day after day, he was taken to the same sterile room where Honerva waited for his arrival. Day after day, he was strapped bare on a steel table, shackled like a wild animal, probed like a scientific experiment, mentally dissected. Day after day after day, it would start again.

And after all those painful hours spent in Honerva’s sickly company, Keith would receive a visit from one of the Altean guards. They would feed him with some alien concoction, forcing the tasteless, almost liquid fluid down his throat. Whatever it was, it was just enough to keep his body from shutting down completely. He was still alive, but barely.

Keith could almost feel his heart’s hesitance before each beat. It was hard to remember a time when the simple act of breathing hadn’t been a chore.

He breathed out, pushing all the air from his lungs. He was free from the restraints and the pins. But his nerves still thrummed with energy, bones still rattled against one another, ghostly fingers ran up and down the expanse of bare skin on his back, counting down each vertebra as they passed.

The day had begun just like every other day since Keith first arrived.

His life was now resumed to a simple routine. He would eat and be dragged by the guards down a maze of corridors until a pair of large doors appeared. He would close his eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep breath, filling his lungs with as much air as he possibly could. Facing Honerva never got any easier and his body never got used to the pain.

He would return to his prison cell once she was satisfied, when his lungs had given out and he had suffocated in his own breath. Keith would lay in a distant corner, closing his eyes and relearning what it was like to _breathe_. In and out. Slowly, patiently. In and out. Exhaustion would envelop him in its arms and he would dream of a seaside boy, drenched in blue light.

Until he was forced to return to his cruel reality.

A simple routine.

Except for one day.

Keith was walking slowly, following the Altean guards with heavy steps. As usual, neither of them had uttered a single word. But Keith could almost taste a sudden change in the air. It felt charged, thicker. If you paid enough attention to detail, you could be able to read a body as well as a book, almost as if the words had been scribbled on skin.

And Keith had noticed.

He noticed, from the corner of his eye, as layers of tension accumulated above their shoulders. How their lips were pressed together, their jaws clenched, their foreheads furrowed.

Keith looked over his shoulder as the doors closed and the guards disappeared. They had left as quiet as they had come. Turning around, he was taken slightly aback by the strange state of emptiness in which he found the room.

Honerva, an everlasting presence on top of that pedestal at the center, was nowhere to be seen.

Keith inspected his surroundings, eyes sharp. And, there, sitting abandoned in a corner, he caught sight of the cryogenic chamber where Lotor’s body was kept. He stepped closer, careful, frowning as an image grew clearer before his eyes, taking form.

_Empty._

Keith inhaled sharply, choking on his own breath as his fingers touched nothing but cold air inside the chamber.

Lotor was gone.

Keith stumbled back a step, eyes open wide as realization began to sink in. It shouldn’t have been possible. Keith was still able to remember Lotor laying there, impossibly still, frozen in time, a man turned into stone.

Dead, dead, _dead_.

“You.”

A voice — deep and hoarse — echoed from Keith’s back. He abruptly turned his body, lips parting to release a strangled gasp as his eyes landed on the figure standing only a couple meters away from him. Luminous lavender skin that glistened under the glow of purple lights, a mane of silvery white hair cascading down a pair of broad shoulders, yellow tinted eyes narrowed in Keith’s direction, teeth bared in a threatening manner.

_Lotor._

His chest was moving in rhythmic waves. His cheeks were filled with color, no longer ashen and frail. And beneath each of his eyes a V-shaped mark emitted a soft glow, partially illuminating his face. Keith was well acquainted with those particular kinds of marks.

_Altean_.

But he couldn’t remember ever seeing those brandished on Lotor’s skin before.

“How —”

“Is he alive?”

Keith closed his mouth, cut short by the distinct sound of Honerva’s voice. She appeared to be entirely made of shadows, a shapeless form hidden in the dark, protected behind Lotor’s body. Like a phantom, she emerged from behind him. Keith watched in silence as she moved closer towards the light, a smile hanging from thin lips.

Acxa materialized on his other side, flanking him protectively. Dutiful warrior, treacherous friend.

“That’s impossible. He was dead.”

“You are a man of little faith, paladin.” Honerva mused, tilting her head to the side in a lupine manner. “Do you still believe your eyes deceive you?”

Keith paused, eyes averting to where Lotor stood. He looked at him, long and unblinking, wondering if it was possible for his tired mind to be playing tricks on him. Perhaps he had finally lost his sanity, perhaps —

Lotor smiled, bright and true and _real_.

Keith felt something coiling behind his ribs, skin pulled tight over bones. Lotor’s voice felt like a velvet touch against his cheek.

“I remember you, the black paladin of Voltron. Their leader.” he said, stepping further away from Honerva’s ghostly apparition. Keith’s eyes were intent on his every movement. “You were the one who chose to leave me there, alone in the quintessence field, to perish.”

“It’s what you deserved after what you’ve done to those Alteans.” a bitter, fierce retort escaped past gritted teeth. Keith curled his fingers into fists and, across from him, Lotor mirrored the action. “You tortured them, drained them of their quintessence, separated them from their families with false promises. You should have just stayed dead.”

The atmosphere readjusted around the scattered bodies present in the room and Keith felt an odd pressure around his throat, invisible fingers closing his airways, pressing harder, harder, harder. Until he choked and whimpered and silently begged for mercy. In his peripheral vision, Acxa moved. A flare of hope flickered for the briefest moment, no longer than a heartbeat, but it was quietly snuffed out as Lotor caught Acxa by the wrist, grounding her. An unspoken exchange passed between them.

“How dare you speak to my son that way? He is royalty and you…” Honerva grunted, eyeing Keith in clear contempt. He shivered under her gaze, gasping for air. “You are nothing.” the sheer force of her magic brought Keith to his knees, touching the floor in a deaf thud. “You should be kneeling before him, begging for forgiveness.”

“That’s enough.”

Lotor’s voice filled the room, ricocheting against the metal in the walls, firm and commanding. Honerva faltered under its weight, unbelievably heavy.

The strong hold around Keith’s throat loosened and he could breathe again. He inhaled, long and hard and desperate to fill his lungs. Lifting his head, he found himself prey to Lotor’s vicious glare. Keith felt as if a sheet of ice had pierced his veins, body growing cold and exposed.

Keith looked from the tip of Lotor’s polished boots, to the clean lines of the armor he wore, all the way to those eyes, shining behind the faint glow of a twin pair of Altean marks. He heard the sound of footsteps and Lotor crowded his vision.

“You wanted me dead, but here I am.” Lotor said, pinching Keith’s chin between his fingers. A low growl erupted from the back of his throat. “I live only because of you, paladin. A life for a life. A debt that must be paid in blood.”

“Is this the moment you give an eloquent speech before killing me? Because if it is, you could just skip it. I’m not interested in hearing anything you have to say.” Keith said, spiteful. And, to his surprise, Lotor laughed.

The sound was unlike anything he had ever heard before. Smooth as the unperturbed surface of a lake, clear as a cloudless sky, thick and syrupy as blood.

“I have no desire to end your life, paladin.” he said as the laughter subsided, plucking a feather of confusion from Keith. “Contrary to what you and your fellow paladins may choose to believe, I am not a monster.”

Keith thought he saw a light flickering in those dark, yellow orbs as the prince pulled his fingers away, ever so slowly. He took a deep breath and rested both hands behind his back in a collected manner, spine arched and chin held high. Lotor turned to Honerva then, a crooked grin curling the edge of his mouth.

“And then, of course, there’s the matter of the _witch_.” Lotor said, dragging the words, syllable after syllable, eyes landing on Honerva’s statuesque figure. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

She regarded him with a clinical gaze, eyes reduced to thin slits. Lotor hummed an unintelligible tune under his breath, pacing around the room, deep in thought. Keith was a mere spectator, observing rather than participating as a scene unfolded before his eyes.

“Lotor, all I ever did was _for_ you, _because_ of you. If you’re alive today, it’s only because of me.” Honerva said with vehemence, fire burning in the undertones of her voice.

Lotor shook his head, smile slowly dying on his face, fading from his lips like smoke.

“I’ve never asked you to do anything.” he said and Keith watched in a mix of fascination and wonder as Honerva’s expression fell, eyebrows knotted in confusion. He couldn’t remember — in all those days he spent with her — ever seeing her look so… Lost. “You’re a disease. You poisoned my father and killed my mother. You’ve brought nothing but disgrace to the Galra Empire, ruining everything you touch. I will not allow you to ruin _me_.”

Lotor’s words were like a tidal wave washing away the flames, fire swallowed under a torrent of cold water.

“Lotor, that’s not true. Your mother isn’t dead.” Honerva exclaimed, voice rising an octave. “I am still here. I would do anything for you!”

“ _No._ ” Keith flinched at the finality of his tone, an exasperated groan finding its way to his ears, having escaped from Lotor’s trembling lips. “You are not my mother. She died the day Haggar was born. Nothing you say or do will ever change that.”

“Lotor —”

“If you thought that bringing me back would somehow make me forget all the suffering you caused me, forgive you for all the horrible things you’ve done in the past, then you’ll find out you were quite mistaken.”

Keith looked from Lotor to Honerva. They stared at each other, time stretching between the two of them, forming and reforming. Growing. Until it stopped altogether and there was nothing but silence. Dense, impenetrable silence. He waited for a reaction from either of them, wondering absently who would be the first to break the quietness that had settled over their shoulders.

He waited, waited, waited.

And then, lost in the eye of a storm, he saw the exact moment the clouds parted open and a torrential downpour began to fall, hard and unforgiving above their heads, followed closely by the rumble of distant thunder at the horizon. It was a terrifying sight.

“Guards!” Honerva called.

The doors burst open and two guards — the ones who would always drag him out of his cell — came in. Lotor’s eyes widened as he caught sight of them, rapidly advancing towards him. Keith felt something strongly resembling sympathy as he watched the semblance on Lotor’s face, tainted with betrayal. Keith spared a look at Acxa, covering Lotor’s body with her own, but it only lasted a second before he chose to avert his eyes, wounds still fresh throbbing where his heart was supposed to beat.

“You cannot do this! I am your prince.” Lotor protested, fighting against the pair of strong hands encircling his arms. Keith knew the feeling well. Acxa fought alongside him, brandishing two small knives, one in each hand. “I command you to release me. _Now._ ”

But there was no reaction from the guards. They remained stoic figures at his sides, firmly rooted, eyes devoid of emotion. As Acxa prepared to land another blow, knees bend and teeth bared, Honerva trapped her in a magical prison, much similar to the ones she used to ensnare Keith.

“Don’t waste your breath, Lotor. They only follow their Empress’ orders.” Honerva said, touching a hand against one of Lotor’s cheeks, thumb brushing the markings. “I’m sorry it had to come to this, but you give me no alternative.”

“No —”

“Take prince Lotor to the quarters assigned to him.” she added after a moment, staring deep into the guards’ eyes. “And make sure he doesn’t leave.”

There was a collective nod, silent and obedient, and then they were moving once again, pulling Lotor alongside them, flanked on both sides. Promises of endless amounts of pain trailed behind Lotor’s every step, dispersing in the air as the doors closed behind his retreating figure. Caged behind invisible bars, Acxa cried out his name, blades held high as she used them to cut through thin air.

“That’s not — That wasn’t the plan! You said you would help him!” she screamed, snarling back at Honerva, who appeared unaffected by the entire exchange.

But Keith knew it must pain her. To see her own son, blood of her blood, treat her like she was nothing more than a nuisance. He had spent enough years of his life hiding his suffering to know exactly what it looked like; the moment you slipped on that mask of indifference, a stone-cold armor.

“I _am_ helping him.” Honerva said. “This will give my son time to think about his actions and how they carry consequences.”

“He’s your _son_!” Acxa blurted out, desperation seeping from each word. “How can you keep him locked in a cell?”

“I should have done this a long time ago. Lotor never knew any limits, that’s what led to his ruin.” she replied. “This time things will be different. I’ll make sure of it.”

Keith tensed as he felt another presence approaching, empty eyes focused on him and only him.

“And, now, what should I do with you?” she mulled over her own words. “I’m afraid a demonstration will have to wait a moment when my son is calmer.”

Keith frowned.

“If Lotor never meant to kill me, what am I doing here?” he managed to ask, forcing his gaze to meet Honerva’s.

She smiled and the temperature dropped. Keith shivered, clenching his jaw tightly to prevent his teeth from rattling against one another.

“You have such a narrow mind, paladin.” she mused, circling his body like a lioness pinning down her prey. Keith swallowed thickly. “Do you honestly believe killing you is the worst thing I could possibly do to you?” when Keith didn’t answer, she continued. “Have you not been paying attention?”

“Just tell me. I’m tired of playing your games.” he said, blistering with barely contained anger.

“You were meant to be a gift to my son. A means for him to fulfill his vengeance against the other paladins of Voltron.” Honerva said, almost wistful. “I wish I could have had the chance to show him all the amazing work I have done.”

“A gift?” Keith echoed, brows knotted in puzzlement. “What are you talking about?”

Honerva stopped walking, all of a sudden, eyes zeroing on Keith. She exposed her canines in a gesture too perverted to be considered a smile, raising her hand towards his face, gently grazing the surface. Somewhere in the room, he heard a sharp intake of breath and his tired mind reminded him of Acxa. She was still there, still caged, still watching.

“I’m so glad you asked, paladin.” Honerva said in a sickly-sweet tone.

The atmosphere thrummed with power, heavy and negatively charged, hovering just above Keith’s head, like a dark cloud. He could almost taste the electricity in the air, a subtle current crawling under his skin, a dial turned up.

Keith heard that voice again, echoing inside his head, compelling his body to move. He watched as his feet carried him across the room, legs working against his will, refusing to obey his thoughts. Something cold grew inside his chest, roots made of thick ice piercing his ribs.

When Keith lifted his eyes from the ground, he found Acxa’s yellow orbs, open wide in fear. Keith frowned. He couldn’t remember when the two of them had gotten so close, standing almost face to face, separated only by a thin, invisible wall erected between their bodies.

“Keith, what are you doing?” Acxa asked, voice wavering as she took an instinctual step back.

The invisible walls of the cage crumbled to nothingness, as if blown away by a gust of wind, and she nearly stumbled backwards, taken aback by the sudden sense of freedom.

Keith parted his lips to answer her, but the words escaping his mouth were different from the ones floating in his mind. His voice sounded distorted to his own ears, almost as if it wasn’t his own, but someone else’s. An impostor. A lie.

“You’re a traitor, Acxa.” Keith’s voice had been reduced to a vile, hissing sound. “And you still remember how the Galra treat their traitors, don’t you? Maybe I should refresh your memory.”

Acxa’s eyes grew wide on her face and Keith noticed the way she oscillated looks between him and Honerva. A different emotion flashed before her eyes, morphing her face into an expression of complete horror.

“Keith, that’s not you. It’s Honerva. She’s inside your head.” Acxa said, exasperated. Keith’s feet didn’t falter as he took another step forward, then another, and another. “Fight her, Keith! You need to fight her.”

But there was no fight left in him. No fire burning. Nothing.

Keith could feel the distant pull at the corner of his lips, his entire face contorting in order to accommodate a wolfish grin, all bared teeth and sharp edges. Acxa’s shoulders tensed, lips pursed and jaw clenched. She looked back at him almost as if she could no longer recognize the person standing before her. Perhaps she couldn’t. Perhaps Keith was simply too far gone.

Honerva hummed in Keith’s ear, an apparition at his side. His mind recoiled at the close proximity, but his body didn’t so much as flinch as long nails grazed his arm, his hand, his bruised knuckles. The ties biding him together, connecting thoughts to limbs, tendons to muscles, had all been severed.

“It seems awfully unfair for you to have two blades, while he has nothing but his fists. Wouldn’t you agree, Acxa?” Honerva considered, a perverted tilt to her voice. Acxa narrowed her eyes at the witch. “Perhaps I should remedy that.”

Honerva lifted her hand, twisting her wrist a fraction to the side, and the knives disappeared from Acxa’s tight grip. She let out a soft gasp in surprise, eyeing her now empty hands with a growing sense of horror.

Honerva had a pleased smile on her lips.

“Now it’s a fair fight.” she said, resting a hand on Keith’s shoulder and leaning further into him, whispering poisonous words in his ears. “Show her. All your hidden potential, all that we’ve accomplished together.”

Keith took another step forward. Teeth shining in a bright smile, pupils dilated, indigo irises swallowed by a thick, impenetrable darkness.

“Keith —”

Acxa retreated, a defensiveness embedded to her every move. A part of Keith — a dark, shadow side of his — relished at her reaction. That same strange voice from before whispered at the back of his mind, singing with his blood, thrumming with his body, instigating violence and war and pain.

_Do it,_ it spoke in soft tones. _Kill her._

Keith advanced another step.

His mind screamed for him to stop, but his body betrayed him. He tried to refrain himself, to root his feet to the ground, but his will no longer belonged to him. He was no more than a puppet, someone else’s fingers controlling the strings.

The voice spoke again in his mind and the words caused havoc in his own head.

_Kill her._

And just as he had done before, Keith dutifully obeyed. He curled his fingers into a fist, the throbbing in his knuckles nothing but a distant memory.

_Kill._

_Kill._

_Kill._

And then he lunged.

* * *

 

Keith had fallen into a black hole.

Or, at least, he thought he did.

He had no way of knowing how or why. He only knew he had been transported back to the Galaxy Garrison, with its clean walls and even cleaner floors. He could see his own face reflected at him, eyes wide and lips parted. There were bright orange uniforms and hurried footsteps. The heat of the desert creeping through every small crevice in the building, lighting up a fire inside Keith.

He looked down at himself, hoping to find the old gray under suit. But he found his body clad in a standard orange uniform instead. His old uniform. The one designated to all young cadets admitted in the Garrison. He let his fingers roam through the fabric, feeling it under his digits, touching and grabbing and —

It couldn’t be real. He must be dreaming, again.

Keith had been in a space ship only moments ago, staring into Honerva’s bottomless eyes, listening to Lotor — a very much alive and very much real version of him — cry out in outrage, feeling Acxa’s gaze follow his every movement, his every breath.

He remembered the light being sucked from the room, but he couldn’t remember having closed his eyes. He must have, though, because when he opened them, he was _here_.

Keith crossed the doors of the room he had woken up inside — his old room —, stumbling in an empty corridor. He followed the echoes of machinery and the sound of voices. And that’s when he found him; standing outside, under a blue sky, brown hair blown by a summer breeze, skin shining, kissed by the heat of the sun.

“Lance.”

Keith half whispered, half breathed out the name. His lungs grew, pushing against his ribs. His heart ached. His throat closed.

And he ran.

His feet moved fast, ferocious in its desire to get closer, closer, closer. Warmth embraced his body as he stepped outside, still running, still aching, still breathing. He left a cloud of dust behind, limbs flailing and hair a disheveled mess on top of his head as he extinguished the distance separating him for his seaside boy.

“Lance!” he screamed, he yelled, he expelled the name from his lips like a prayer. Or a curse.

He ran and he screamed and he prayed for this Lance to be real.

_God, please, let him be real…_

Lance turned around, beautiful in his equally hideous orange uniform. Under a cloudless, blue sky his blue eyes shone impossibly bright. And in that moment, Keith loved him.

He loved him, he loved him, he loved him.

He loved the shape of his hands, delicate and strong at the same time. He loved the way his uniform wrapped around his upper arms and torso, and he loved the slight upturn curve at the tip of his nose.

Keith collided against Lance in an explosion of arms and ragged breaths, collapsing onto the slim body pressed close to his. He could smell the sea in his hair and the desert in his skin and he buried his fingers in the nape of his neck, brushing soft curls to expose warm, naked skin. His lips explored a dangerous path down a sharp jawline, travelling upwards across the angles of the face that haunted his every dream, climbing over high cheekbones before finding solace on the slope of his neck, where shoulder met clavicle.

“Lance, Lance, Lance.” Keith murmured, vocabulary reduced to a single word, lips grazing the soft skin of his earlobe. He felt Lance shiver under his touch. It felt real. “Lance, is this really you? Are you really here?”

Keith reluctantly pulled away, only a fraction, only enough to look Lance in those blue eyes of his. Keith’s hands crawled from neck to face, thumbs trailing a pattern of freckles.

_Stars_ , Keith thought. _He has stars on his face._

“I —” Lance began, unsure, hands coming to rest above Keith’s. A heartbeat. A staggering stare. A crease between thin, dark brows. “I — I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

Lance’s fingers — the ones Keith loved, delicate and strong — prodded his hands away and they fell limp at the sides of his body, weightless. And Lance’s eyes — somehow bluer and brighter than he remembered — searched his face.

_He doesn’t know you_ , a voice taunted at the back of Keith’s mind.

That’s what he was searching. A memory. A familiar face. But there was nothing, only empty space.

Keith felt his heart sinking, plummeting into a bottomless pit.

“You — Lance, what are you talking about? It’s me. It’s Keith.” he pleaded, desperate, terribly afraid.

He had to know. He _had_ to. How long had Keith been gone? How long —

_Nothing._

There was nothing.

Lance’s face was a blank canvas, his eyes strangely cold. Distant. Far, far away.

“Keith?” he echoed.

And the way his name rolled out of Lance’s tongue — devoid of meaning, unrecognizable — caused something to stir in his stomach, gnawing at his guts.

Keith wanted to kiss away the confusion swimming in those eyes. To kiss away the doubt hovering in those furrowed brows. He wanted to kiss him and make him remember.

_It’s me, Lance._

_Keith._

_Your rival._

_Your friend._

_Yours._

Keith exhaled, reaching out for a constellation of freckles, craving the quiet and the intimacy of space. But Lance began to fade away, disappearing before Keith’s eyes until there were no stars left for him to chase. A dream slowly being unmade. He could already feel the feathery touches of his consciousness. He was awakening.

Keith felt the ground crack and crumble beneath his feet, water rising to meet his starving lungs, swallowing him as he fell into the abyss.

He laid on his back, collapsed on the floor, eyes counting down the celestial bodies occupying each patch of space, illuminating every dark crevice. Silence reigned where once Keith had known only raucous laughter.

Lance was gone.

He had left, like everyone else before him.

And, _God, it hurt…_

Keith had always thought leaving felt like a sharp blade hidden under a pillow, that it smelled of ashes and smoke, a building on flames. But leaving tasted bitter. It was a vast ocean, tearing its way down his throat. Waves that never met the shore. Salt and iron and sand.

Keith closed his eyes, praying for a miracle, for Lance to come back. Back to him. Back to where he belonged.

_Come back, come back, come back to me._

Behind his eyelids, stars collided; they died and were reborn in flares of light, bright and colorful and warm.

_Find me_ , Keith’s voice resounded inside his skull. He wished his thoughts could be carried to where Lance was, light-years away. In a small, blue planet. In some distant, insignificant galaxy. He needed him to know. He needed him to listen.

_Find me._

_Find me._

_Find me._

Keith blearily opened his eyes, awakened by the loud echoes of a thousand alarms blasting all around him. Warning red lights throbbed, their reflections visible through the cracks under the doors. Outside, rushed footsteps erupted in a somehow organized chaos. Frantic whispers traveled across the corridors.

Keith frowned as bits and pieces of information found their way towards his ears. Something about someone escaping. A runaway prince. A dangerous traitor. Alteans lying dead somewhere, their throats slit open, the walls painted a dark crimson color.

Loud voices trespassed the thick walls of his cell. Screams and groans and the distinct sound of a blade cutting through flesh and bone.

And then the doors to his cell opened and two silhouettes plunged inside. Blue colored hands urged his body upward, slim shoulders partly covering the other figure standing guard at the doorframe. In his peripheral vision, Keith caught a glimpse of bodies sprawled across the empty corridor. Dark, viscous blood surrounded their heads like an infernal halo.

Keith blinked a couple times, recognizing the markings etched on the faces of those fallen bodies. He could feel his throat drying out, making it nearly impossible to swallow.

“Keith, can you stand?” spoke an achingly familiar voice, rumbling inside his skull like thunder. Keith slowly turned his head to the side and blue-yellow eyes filled his vision. A suffocated breath escaped his lips.

“Acxa?” Keith exhaled, frowning. “How are you — I thought I had killed you. I thought she had made me kill you. I thought —”

He sounded awfully unsteady, something on the verge of breaking. His mind was invaded with memories of a dark room, Honerva hovering over his shoulders, whispering deadly commands in his ear. He remembered the fear glistening in Acxa’s eyes as he took another step forward. He remembered how fragile her throat had felt under the strong hold of his fingers, how easily it would be to tear it to pieces. Her choking sounds — too small and feeble to be human — had filled his ears, running alongside the rapid pump of his blood.

He thought he had killed her.

He saw her eyes close, her body sag, and he thought it was over.

He thought —

“You didn’t. I’m still here, Keith.” Acxa supplied in a firm tone. She swallowed before continuing. “Honerva used it only as a warning. She made you stop before — It doesn’t matter anymore.” she paused, looking him in the eye. “Consider this my apology for what I did to you. I really am sorry, Keith. For everything.”

Keith’s eyes fell onto the purple marks imprinted on the soft skin of her neck, shadows that resembled his own fingers; his own doing. He flinched at the sight, recoiling to a corner of the room, away from Acxa’s touch. He braced his knees close to his chest, gaze trained on a particularly dark spot on the floor. He vaguely remembered a day he had arrived in the cell with his skin tore apart by countless scratches, blood dripping from the open gashes, marring the once pristine floor.

Acxa released a tired sigh, eyes staring deep into Keith’s hunched figure. This time she didn’t dare to touch him, remaining grounded in place.

“Keith, I’m not here to hurt you. This is a rescue mission.” Acxa said the words with deliberate care, as if to make sure Keith would understand.

But he didn’t.

Acxa’s words held little meaning to him, a mess of disjointed letters, broken syllables, white noise and —

“What?” he blurted rather eloquently, brows furrowing harder.

“We’re getting you out of here. Please, don’t make me explain this again. We don’t have the luxury of time.”

Keith blinked the confusion away and slowly his body began to disarm itself, arms falling to his sides, shoulders deflating.

“ _We_? Who’s we?” he asked, cursing himself for the hope he carelessly allowed to seep in his tone. A tiny, flickering spark that refused to die.

His mind travelled to a pair of blue eyes. A mop of white hair. Round, large glasses. An orange bandana. Altean markings that appeared to glow a rose color from time to time. _Family_. Keith felt his chest constricting tighter, tighter, tighter until breathing was no longer an option.

“Acxa explained to me what was done to you.” the shadow at the door spoke. Keith blinked, eyes hovering to the shapeless figure. In the intervals the warning lights sparked to life he was able to see the lavender tone of the strange man’s skin, waves of white cascading down broad shoulders. A deep, sultry voice. “I am indebted to you, Keith Kogane. You saved my life in more ways than one, now I’m saving yours.”

“Lotor?” Keith breathed out, unable to fully grasp the true meaning of his words. “You’re here to… Save me?”

Lotor gave him a single, firm nod of his head. Acxa’s voice broke through the sirens.

“We couldn’t just leave you behind.” she said. “Not after everything that has been done to you. Not when I know it was all my fault.”

“So,” Keith looked from Acxa to Lotor. “Are you coming or not?”

Keith paused, releasing a staggered breath. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, clicking his teeth together almost painfully.

_Yes._

He wanted to say, but the word was lodged deep inside his throat, applying an uncomfortable amount of pressure against his vocal chords.

He still remembered all the horrible things Honerva had made him do. She was inside his head, ingrained deeply into his bones, pulling at his veins like the strings of a puppet. She had control over his actions, his thoughts, his decisions. What if she made him hurt Acxa again? What if she made him hurt his friends? His family? He would never be able to forgive himself.

“Keith, we don’t have much time.” Acxa urged a reaction from him, piercing him with those deep blue eyes.

_It’s wrong_ , Keith thought. _It’s the wrong shade of blue_.

“I can’t.” he let it slip from his tongue, sounding terribly small.

Acxa’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean you can’t? Keith, we’ll take you back to Earth. You have my word, I wouldn’t dare break it a second time.”

“It’s not that.” Keith said with a sigh. Acxa was quiet, waiting for him to continue. “I’m not safe. Honerva… She’s inside my head. You saw what she made me do to you, Acxa. It wouldn’t be safe for either of you to have me at your side.”

“Keith —”

He shook his head, adamant.

“I just… Can’t.”

“Whatever my — Whatever that witch has done to you I’m positive Allura will be able to undo.” Keith lifted his head, looking past Acxa and into Lotor’s eyes. The sharp lines and angry angles of his face had softened at the mention of the Altean princess.

“Come with us, Keith.” Acxa insisted.

Sirens screamed outside. Red lights flashed, illuminating the corridor in an ominous glow. Keith knew their time was running out, he could almost picture the sand languishing into an imaginary hourglass. He inhaled the words that had left the prince’s mouth like oxygen, as if they would somehow keep him alive.

Keith swallowed thickly, nodding in response.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Lotor deadpanned, lifting an eyebrow.

“I’ll go with you.” he said, forcing himself up using the wall as support. His body still ached from some of the blows Acxa had managed to land on him during their fight earlier. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Acxa stretched out her hand towards Keith, a cut-glass blade resting on her open palm. Keith eyed her carefully, tentatively reaching for the knife. As his fingers closed around the hilt, he felt almost stable once again, latching onto something to ground him. A chance to escape. A chance to go _home_. He inhaled sharply at the prospect, thinking about all those sleepless nights he spent dreaming about Earth, about Shiro, Pidge, Hunk, Allura.

About Lance.

He was going home.

_I’ll find my way back._

“Let’s go. We need to move.” Acxa said, turning her back to Keith and running to where Lotor waited, arms folded as he watched the exchange between the two.

Keith followed with some difficulty, trying to match both their rapid paces. But there was a limp to his stride and a dull throb to his knuckles. He was lagging behind when four more Altean guards turned a corner, eyes growing wide in their faces as they spotted the trio. Keith released a silent curse, holding the blade tighter in his fist. Acxa and Lotor flanked him at his sides, brandishing blades of their own.

“We’re on a smaller number.” Keith murmured to no one in particular. Beside him, Acxa nodded and Lotor’s lips quirked slightly upwards.

“We can take them.”

Keith side-eyed the prince and felt the sudden urge to smile back, blood singing in his veins as adrenaline was pumped into his bloodstream, his body coming alive under the thrill of battle.

“I never said we couldn’t.”

Keith’s movements were slower due to his recent injuries, but he was still better than most swordsmen. Definitely better than the Altean he was currently fighting, landing blow after blow on his arms and legs. Acxa was a shadow at his back, fighting with one blade in each hand against two of the guards. Meanwhile, Lotor extracted another pain-stricken cry from his opponent, sword slashing through ribs and flesh. The Altean fell at his feet, dead.

“Lotor!” Acxa called out and he was fast approaching, yielding his broadsword, now dripping with blood.

Keith was able to notice the hesitance in the Alteans as they faced their savior, the man they had sworn to serve and protect. But as soon as Lotor launched himself forward, sword held high, they were reminded he was their enemy now. And as the title of savior was replaced by a tuneless chorus of _traitor, traitor, traitor_ alliances quickly changed.

The Altean surprised Keith from behind, keeping him locked by the neck, applying enough pressure to prevent the air from reaching his lungs. Keith had his body unceremoniously thrown against a wall, head coming into contact with the hard surface with a sickening thud. Keith groaned in pain, skull pulsating from the force of impact. The blade slipped from his fingers.

Ribbons of blood escaped from a deep cut at the bridge of his nose, tracing scarlet patterns down his chin. Keith swallowed the iron tainting his lips, licking them dry and watching as the syrupy liquid continued to fall from his injured nose. From the corner of his eye, Keith saw Acxa and Lotor finish off another Altean together.

Somehow, he managed to struck the guard holding him down with his elbow, landing a clean blow on a few of his ribs and earning a strangled cry in response. His grip loosened and though Keith moved considerably slower than before, he was still fast enough to escape and find his forgotten blade, subsequently impaling the Altean in the chest.

Dull, empty eyes stared back at him. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, lips parted in shock or in pain, Keith couldn’t be sure. He watched as the life was drained from his body, tore apart under Keith’s graceful, deadly hands. The hands of an orphan. The hands of a soldier. The hands of a killer.

Keith heard steps approaching him from behind and those blood-stained hands of his were forcefully pulled, protected under the weight and the warmth of blue-tinted fingers. He lifted his head to meet Acxa’s gaze.

“We need to go, Keith.”

Keith simply stared back at her.

“Are they all dead?” he asked.

“They have been corrupted by Honerva’s dark magic. They follow her commands now.”

“I thought Lotor said Allura could —”

“And I’m sure she can.” Lotor said, cutting Keith short. “But first, we need to get as far away as possible from this ship. We can mourn the dead later, when it’s safe. Right now, we need to keep moving.”

Keith could hardly remember which corridors he had crossed or which corners he had turned to get to the hangar where countless smaller vessels were safely stored.

It all happened fast.

Too fast.

Lotor had unlocked all vessels’ systems using a panel in an adjacent wall and a code Acxa had ripped from one of the Altean guards. Keith followed the pair to a ship at their left, built on slick lines and glistening edges. It was big enough to carry all three of them across outer space in what would no doubt be a long, long journey back to Earth.

Lotor was the first one to climb aboard, sitting behind the control panel and igniting the thrusters. Outside, the echo of footsteps grew louder.

“Keith, come, I’ll help you.” Acxa called, reaching out for him from the other side of the cockpit.

Keith stretched his hand out towards her, fingertips grazing against one another and then —

_Pain_ , as thread by thread he was pulled apart.

Keith could hear his own agonizing screams, ugly sounds that collided against the walls and reverberated through the hangar. His hands gripped the sides of his head, pressing harder against his skull, hoping it would somehow reduce the sharp throbbing in his temples, slow down the rush of blood in his ears, smother the voice whispering deadly promises in the back of his mind.

Acxa called out his name.

“I — It’s Honerva.” he mustered the strength to speak, but his body was slowly succumbing to the pain; knees meeting the ground, rivulets of blood oozing from his nose. _What was happening to him?_ “She’s — She’s inside my head. S — She won’t let me leave.”

Acxa stared back at Keith’s crumbling figure, eyes wide in shock as she watched the paladin slowly being unmade.

“Lotor, what do we do?”

Lotor’s voice filled Keith’s ears a moment later, clean and deep.

“There’s nothing we can do.” he said with a sigh. “The entity inside him won’t allow him to go. If he does, he’ll most likely die.”

“ _What_?” Acxa exhaled, an exasperated gust of air exiting her lungs. “No! We can’t leave him, Lotor. I gave him my word, I —”

“Go.” Keith murmured. “Just… Go.”

Keith wasn’t entirely sure if either of them had heard him, but he had confirmation as Acxa snapped her head to where he was laying limp on the floor.

“Keith, what are you —”

“Go, Acxa.” Keith said, looking at her through a thick curtain of lashes, eyes threatening to fall shut. “I won’t be able to make it. Honerva won’t let me.” he inhaled and exhaled slowly, listening to the quiet sound of his chapped lips parting. “Just promise me one thing.”

Acxa nodded, movement filled with unwavering certainty. A different kind of pain coursed through Keith’s body then, eliciting a small shudder. The words weighted heavily on his tongue, laced with iron.

“Promise me you’ll come back to destroy Honerva.” Keith said emphatically, the last wish of a dying man. Not to save him, for he was beyond saving. But to destroy the woman who had stolen him from his home, from his family.

Acxa’s voice sounded painfully honest as she spoke again.

“I promise you, Keith. We will come back for you.”

Behind her, Keith caught a glimpse of Lotor. The prince gave him a small nod in return and Keith knew he understood there would be nothing to return to.

Keith swallowed another scream before it tore its way down his throat, closing his eyes as his thoughts were drowned in dark waves.

The pain lingered in his every muscle, his skin was frail and thin, his throat sore from all the constant screaming. Keith found himself unable to recognize his own voice, how terribly weak he sounded.

“And tell Lance I —”

But the words died on his throat as an electrical current arced through his veins. Up, up, up. Liquid fire that ran with his blood until it touched his heart, burning it to ashes, along with everything else.

Then the sound of doors bursting open, the irregular repeated staccato of footsteps against the metal floor, engines being revved as a ship was brought to life, firing through open space and into the void, sending warm waves towards Keith, where he laid on the cold.

Clawed fingers grazed his thoughts, ripping his mind to shreds. Broken glass pierced Keith’s ears and he tasted blood on his tongue.

“Did you really think you could get away from me, paladin?”

Honerva had his chin between her fingers, forcing their eyes to meet with a vicious grip. A short whimper escaped Keith’s throat and he bit on the inside of his cheek with enough force to tear skin open.

“You belong to me now.” she hissed. “Your thoughts, your dreams, your body. It all belongs to me.”

“Well, I still managed to get this far, didn’t I?” Keith retorted, bloody lips curling around the edges.

Honerva pressed her nails deeper into his jaw, face growing impossibly close as she leaned forward.

“If you got here it was only because I allowed you to.” Keith flinched at the cruel tone of her voice. “I was curious. I wanted to see how far you were willing to go to regain your freedom.”

“How did I go?” Keith asked through clenched teeth, a disdainful note wrapped around each syllable.

Honerva responded with a smile.

“I must admit, I’m impressed.” she replied. “Despite all the pain, you endured. You were willing to follow a man you have sworn as an enemy and the woman who betrayed your trust, only to get back to that insignificant planet of yours.” a pause and then… “I wonder…”

“What?”

Keith couldn’t keep the bite from his tone, teeth bared in an animalistic growl. Honerva seemed strangely pleased with the reaction she had elicited from him.

“What is it that you so desperately want to return to? You have no blood ties there, no home, nothing.” she considered, tilting her head as her eyes studied Keith’s impassive face, looking for cracks. Her claws scratched at his mental barriers. “What are you trying so hard to hide from me, paladin?”

The mental claws Honerva had buried deep inside him grew longer, sharper, tearing holes in the walls Keith had built, turning them all to rubble. As the dust settled, a lonesome thought remained.

Distant and untouched.

_Safe._

A pair of bright blue eyes, a searing trail of kisses left on smooth skin by a scorching sun, the smell of the sea breeze and the resounding echoes of a true laughter, filled with light and stardust.

“Oh, I see…”

“N — No, no, please, no.” Keith groaned through the pain, fighting against Honerva’s strong hold. “Get out of my head! _Get out_!”

Honerva shook her head instead.             

“What a fool you are, paladin, to allow yourself to fall.” Honerva’s fingers loosened their grasp on his jaw, but the pressure inside his chest only grew further, pushing against ribs and lungs and heart. “Love can bring nothing but pain. It’s a destructive force, obliterating all that we once were. It prevents us from reaching our full potential. Love will ruin you, paladin.”

“If you touch him, I swear —”

Keith’s furious snarl was cut abruptly short by Honerva’s laughter.

“Oh, I’m not gonna be the one touching the paladin of the Red Lion.” she said, teeth glinting ominously under the purple glow of the lights. “You are.”

Keith inhaled sharply, the meaning of her words dawning on him. Honerva’s smile widened, ripping the lower half of her face into a large grin.

“Now,” she began. “Tell me everything there is to know about the blue-eyed paladin.” her voice resonated deep inside Keith’s head, calling out to a hidden force lurking in the darkest corners of his mind.

Keith scowled, gritting his teeth.

“I’m not telling you _anything_.” he spat out the words, rebuilding his mental barriers and barricading himself against the obscure presence circling the periphery of his mind. “You could tie me to that table and torture me all over again and I still wouldn’t tell you about Lance. Do whatever you want to me, I’m not afraid of the pain. I would rather die than let you have him.”

Honerva hummed softly, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Then, perhaps, I should tell Romelle to pay him a special visit soon.”

_Romelle?_

And then he understood.

Acxa hadn’t been the only traitor infiltrated in the Garrison. Keith wondered, once again, how could they have been so blind? How many others were under the witch’s control?

“Well,” Honerva mused, looking down at Keith with curious eyes. “What will it be, paladin?”

Keith met her gaze, unwavering. He couldn’t remember ever feeling as scared as he felt then, terribly afraid to lose Lance.

“You will never have him.”

Once, he had left to protect Lance. Now, he stayed.

He stayed as the Honerva’s power ripped him apart. He stayed as shadow claws scratched the barriers he had raised, trying to weaken them. And he stayed as Honerva’s features turned grim, lips pursed into a furious snarl, as Keith deflected her every blast of power; that old, familiar instinctual need to protect Lance keeping his walls from falling apart.

Keith smiled as Honerva’s enraged screams penetrated his ears, a melodic symphony. He smiled, all teeth and lips and blood, and a string of laughter bubbled from the confines of his chest.

Keith laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Laughter soon turned into hysteria and he thought perhaps he was finally losing his mind, sanity being pulled at the seams of his brain.

Behind those impenetrable walls he had raised, memories of Lance roamed freely and unperturbed, safe from Honerva’s corrupting influence. And the thought was enough to bring a smile to Keith’s lips.

He had stayed to protect Lance.

_You’re safe_ , Keith said to the Lance from his imagination, the one that inhabited his memory palace, paying him occasional visits in his prison cell.

_You’re safe_ , he repeated. _I protected you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lotor is back! Yay! Listen, I love that man and he deserved better so that's what I'm giving him. Also, Acxa isn't all bad. Redemption arcs for both of them I say! kfdjkf  
> Thoughts on the story, questions, what do you think it's gonna happen next, anything really feel free to message me on tumblr (@niccoarte) or leave a comment.  
> x


	7. part vii - my bones are calling out your name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The distance was starting to drive him insane, his mind playing wicked tricks on him.  
> He could no longer sleep. He could no longer eat. He couldn’t switch it off. All he could do was fall. Fall apart, fall to pieces, fall, fall, falling.  
> But there was no one there to put him back together. No gloved hands. No calloused fingers. No one there to catch him.  
> Lance felt his particles rearranging, reforming, becoming something else.  
> He was nothing but a shadow of a ghost, fading away, day by day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking longer than usual to get this chapter done but I ran into some creative blocks lol Thankfully they're all gone now yay! This chapter we're back into Lance's POV and forgive any mistakes since I didn't have much time to edit this.  
> The title comes from the song 'All I Want' by Echos.  
> I hope you enjoy it :)  
> In this chapter Lance and Shiro have the friendship we wish they had in the show. Iverson is being an asshole. Veronica makes a special appearance (because she's the absolute best and I love her) and our paladins have a small surprise at the end...

**part vii**

**my bones are calling out your name**

* * *

_And my bones are calling out your name_

_While I beat your cold windows, break the locks on the gate_

_While I try to forget, I used to be something great_

* * *

 

The distance was starting to drive him insane, his mind playing wicked tricks on him.

He could no longer sleep. He could no longer eat. He couldn’t switch it off. All he could do was _fall_. Fall apart, fall to pieces, fall, fall, falling.

But there was no one there to put him back together. No gloved hands. No calloused fingers. No one there to catch him.

Lance felt his particles rearranging, reforming, becoming something else.

He was nothing but a shadow of a ghost, fading away, day by day.

* * *

 

Lance was dreaming.

He could hardly remember the last time he had had a proper night of sleep, free of pain and without nightmares. Keith had been haunting the dark corners of his mind; misguided, looking for answers, looking for _something_. Lance would reach out to him from the edge of an endless dream as the miles between them stretched, the string connecting their hearts pulled tighter, further apart.

 _Find me_ , a voice called out in the back of Lance’s head. Again, and again and again. A tuneless chorus that filled his ears and sang along with the rapid rush of blood. _Find me, find me, find me._

But this dream was different.

There were no voices. There was no Keith. There was no pain.

Lance was under the stars, alone, with nothing but the wilderness to keep him company, adrift in the middle of the Sonoran Desert. Keith was a faraway memory, born from another life.

He looked up at the endless sky, stars scattered all across its dark fabric, so carelessly spilled. And yet, so beautiful. Lance thought that if he could he would lose himself in them, just another bright blue dot painting infinity.

Lance could feel the warmth and the wetness of tears rolling down the slope of his cheekbones, falling from his eyes. He blinked away the tears and the stars were swallowed under salty waves. He had cried quite a lot during the past couple of days, to the point he had almost grown used to that constricting knot at the base of his throat and the salt dancing on his tongue as tears slipped through parted lips.

He missed Keith. He missed that rare, bright smile. He missed that mop of midnight hair, strands overgrown around slim shoulders in that stupid haircut of his. He missed those eyes, a shade of blue he had never found anywhere else throughout the entirety of the known universe, so undeniably Keith’s. But most of all, he missed the way his name would roll out of Keith’s tongue; naturally, effortlessly, almost like it didn’t belong in anyone else’s mouth.

But this time crying felt different. It felt like surrender. It felt like defeat. It felt like goodbye.

He held onto the blade Krolia had gifted him only days ago — Keith’s blade —, fingers circling the hilt in a vice grip, as if the thought of letting go would somehow make his heart cease to beat. He wasn’t letting go of Keith. Not now, as hope perished before their every effort, and not ever.

And then he felt the ground crumbling beneath his feet, falling apart as cracks tore the earth into disjointed puzzle pieces, fissures piercing the surface. A cloud of dust enveloped Lance and he fell into the abyss.

In the free fall he was hit by sudden flashes of blinding light, images from a life lived many moons ago, memories that were stored in a neglected corner of his mind.

Lance thought about their days spent in the desert. He thought about the night he had seen Keith again after so long, how a fire had ignited in his loins, nearly turning his heart to ashes. He remembered how much it hurt when Keith did not recognize him, how impossibly small he had felt then. There was the object of his affections, standing right before his eyes, close enough to touch, and he couldn’t even recall his name.

It hurt.

Lance thought of the shack Keith had called home. Floor boards that creaked with every step and thin walls that were falling to pieces. He remembered how the chilly night air howled like a hungry wolf as it tore through the cracks in the windows. Lance had been terrified, his more than vivid imagination running to terrible, dangerous places.

But it only lasted a moment.

His eyes landed on Keith, crouched on the other side of the room, away from everyone else, turning that ominous blade he carried everywhere between graceful fingers. And, then, just like that, the fear was gone.

All it took was one look.

It had been that way since the beginning.

Lance should have known in that one, terrifying moment of clarity. He should have known that no measure of space or time could sever the invisible strings that stretched from the center of his chest, pulling at his heart, carrying it further away from the confines of his ribcage and placing it on a pair of gloved hands.

Keith had told them about the strange calling he had heard from across the arid desert, a voice that seemed to lure him despite the emptiness of it all. He was driven by a fiery impulse that never ceased to burn within him. He decided to follow. They all did.

And there, hidden inside a cold, empty cavern, was Blue.

Keith had heard Blue. He had _felt_ her across an ocean made of sand, even though he wasn’t meant to be her paladin.

Keith had found her and then she chose Lance.

Blue light filled the space behind his closed eyelids and his ears caught the faint echoes of a voice calling out his name.

Lance woke up with a start, gasping for air as he sat on the bed, the lower half of his body drowning in pillows and blankets. A shadow moved at his feet, thick fur brushing the underside of his leg, and a pair of yellow eyes glowed in the dark.

Lance released a sigh, breathing slowly through his nose as he attempted to calm the frantic beating of his heart. His hand fell on Kosmo’s head, drawing small circles between those wolfish ears. He got a low, rumbling sound in response.

“It’s okay, boy. I’m okay. It was just a nightmare.”

Lance rushed to reassure him. Kosmo had become an intrinsic part of his life as of late, trailing at his footsteps during the day and nesting with him on the bed when night fell. He was a comforting presence, warm and safe and constantly at his side.

Kosmo’s ears deflated slightly on top of his head and he rested that heavy jaw of his across one of Lance’s thighs. Lance remained with his fingers buried in Kosmo’s fur, the soothing patterns he drew bringing a new-found sense of tranquility to his trembling body.

The memories from that last dream were fragmented and blurred around the edges, but Lance was still able to remember. The shack in the middle of the desert, with its walls covered in colored maps and strange symbols, pages scribbled in hasty handwriting. He remembered the round, angry markings, circling a specific place. The cave. Blue’s energy calling out to anyone who would listen.

And Keith had heard her when no one else did.

He had felt her…

_Quintessence._

Lance still wasn’t able to fully grasp the true meaning of quintessence. It was an abstract concept to him and to most of the team, with the exception of Allura and Coran. But it appeared to be the answer to every single question.

A warm presence infiltrated his thoughts and his ears were suddenly filled with the distant sounds of purrs, the gentle scratch of claws against the back of his skull. Lance felt his lips quiver as his chest was filled with something heavy and all-encompassing and _right_.

“Kosmo,” Lance called in the dark and he watched as the cosmic wolf blinked at him. “I need you to take me somewhere.”

A flare of white light briefly illuminated the room. It only lasted a few fleeting seconds before it vanished completely, returning everything to absolute darkness and leaving behind a trail of rumpled sheets and empty space.

* * *

 

At late hours in the night, the Lions’ hangar was eerily quiet. Lance could hear the staccato echoes of his footsteps as he made his way towards their sleeping forms. Kosmo dutifully followed, sniffing the air as if he was searching for something. Or someone. Lance thought perhaps he could still pick up on traces of Keith’s smell lingering in the air, surrounding the gleaming surface of the Black Lion.

Lance stopped before Red, flanked on both sides by a pair of metallic paws. He arched his neck back, lifting his eyes to the towering creature standing impossibly still before him.

Lance swallowed thickly, mouth dry and lips frail. He opened his mouth, closed it. With a tentative step forward, Lance pressed the palm of his hand against cold metal, taking a deep breath before parting his lips once again.

“Red, I know you’ve been trying to tell me something. I didn’t imagine that, did I?” he said softly, in low tones. A secret shared between a boy and his Lion. “I could feel you in my head. You were trying to make me remember about that night in the desert. It’s about Keith, isn’t it?”

 _It’s always about Keith_ , he thought.

There was no response, only silence. But Lance could feel that familiar warmth coursing through his veins, lighting up a fire in his core.

“You miss him too.” he said and another wave of heat engulfed him. “I think I understand now what you were trying to tell me.”

Lance smiled, something coy and timid and so un-Lance-like, but a smile all the same. He wasn’t imagining things that weren’t real. He wasn’t losing his mind. Red had been trying to communicate with him, all this time, and now Lance finally understood.

“Thank you.” Lance whispered before pulling away, hand falling beside his body. He turned towards Kosmo, sitting comfortably at his feet, and buried his fingers in thick, dark-gray fur. “C’mon, buddy, we need to wake up the others. No time to waste.”

Kosmo barked once in return, eyes glowing in the dark. Lance’s smile grew wider — the first he had mustered in days — as hope crawled along his bones, seeping in his veins, filling the emptiness behind his ribs.

 _You need to have faith_ , Shiro had said once and now Lance thought he might believe him.

* * *

 

Lance had woken up each of the other paladins, appearing at the foot of their bed in a burst of light and nearly scaring them all to an early death. His ears were still ringing from the screams that had erupted from Hunk’s lungs and the curses uttered at his back by a very angry, very sleepy Pidge. Shiro and Allura, however surprised by Lance’s unexpected visit, seemed to understand something important must have happened for the sudden intrusion to take place in the middle of the night. There were no questions asked as they all followed Lance and Kosmo to the control room, patiently waiting for an explanation.

Once they were all gathered around the control panel, a heavy silence settled above their shoulders, space no longer filled with the sound of footsteps. Four pairs of eyes stared intently back at Lance, searching and waiting and still bleary under the invisible weight of sleep on their eyelids.

“Are you gonna tell us why you thought it was a good idea to wake us up in the middle of the night?” Pidge asked, arms crossed in front of their tiny frame, hair sticking out in odd angles. “I had just managed to fall asleep when you appeared out of nowhere with that light and —”

“Pidge.”

Allura’s voice cut them short, clean and stern. Pidge turned their eyes towards the Altean princess, hazel orbs glistening behind large, round glasses. One look at Allura’s impassive frown and their mouth closed mid-sentence, throat bobbing up and down as they swallowed with some difficulty.

“Sorry.” they mumbled under their breath, averting their eyes back towards Lance, who stood uncharacteristically quiet in the middle of the room, fingers still gripping some of Kosmo’s fur in a loose hold.

“I’m guessing something important must have happened for you to call us in odd hours of the night.” Allura said, piercing Lance with that fiery, blue gaze of hers. “Am I right, Lance?”

Lance gave her a firm nod of his head.

“Yes.” he added after a moment, meeting the expectant gazes of his fellow paladins. Lance cleared his throat before continuing. “I think I might know why Keith was taken.”

The room fell silent and after a brief moment of mutual hesitation Allura encouraged him to continue with a small wave of her head, inquisitive eyes shining amongst the shadows.

“Keith is sensitive to quintessence. He feels it differently, unlike the rest of us.” Lance explained, sending pointed stares to both Pidge and Hunk. “Remember how we found Blue?”

Lance paused, waiting for a reaction, watching as they all exchanged hesitant looks between one another. Brows were growing increasingly furrowed, lips settling into grim lines, color slowly draining from their noses and cheeks.

“What does this have to do with Blue?” Shiro was the first to break the silence, a confused frown carved in his forehead.

“Don’t you get it? It was because of Keith. He was the one who heard her all the way across the desert, even though he wasn’t meant to be her pilot.” Lance said with vehemence. “He felt her energy, her quintessence.”

Allura hummed softly, lips pursed in a taut line as she considered Lance’s words. He could practically see the engines turning inside her head, struggling to make sense of it all.

“I never gave that much thought, but I think you could be right, Lance.” Allura said eventually, gingerly drumming her fingers on her chin, deep in thought. “If Keith is able to sense quintessence then perhaps this so-called Empress is looking for ways to harness it.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to take you instead, Allura? I mean, even if Keith is more sensitive to quintessence than the rest of us, he’s not like you.” Pidge said.

“Exactly.” Lance exclaimed, voice raising one or two octaves. “He’s not like Allura. He’s Galra.” he shrugged, correcting himself. “Well, half Galra.”

“Lance, I don’t think I follow, man.” Hunk pipped in, a frown still set on his face.

Lance sighed, forcing the words out at a slower pace, determined to make them understand.

“They took Keith because there’s no one quite like him in the entire universe. He has something none of us have. Not even Allura.” he said, exchanging glances with the other paladins. “Just think about it. Who’s the other half Galra we know that is also sensitive to quintessence?”

A heartbeat passed in silence, time suspended as realization slowly crept in the soft tissue of their brains. The mere thought was outrageous, the possibility that what Lance was implying could indeed be true. Different stages of shock were plastered across their faces, eyes wide open, unblinking; lips parted, allowing surprised gasps to escape past them; deep lines carving the space between their brows.

“Lance, are you implying —” Hunk began.

“Wait, are you saying that —” Pidge continued.

But it was Allura who voiced their deepest fears. It had been no more than a gust of wind, born from a sharp inhale. A prayer and a plea and a curse altogether. Lance thought he was the only one able to hear the pain lacing her voice, all the longing and the hurt hidden underneath each syllable. It sounded like a broken heart.

“Lotor.”

As the name left her lips, Allura lost her balance, knees buckling under the weight of such a word, body collapsing against Shiro’s solid chest. He held her in his arms with all the care of a knight towards his princess, fingers steady under both of her elbows, avoiding her fatal encounter with the ground. Lance, Pidge and Hunk all sent her concerned looks.

“Princess —”

“I’m fine.” Allura cut Shiro, dismissing the growing horror on each of their faces with a single wave of her hand. With a deep breath, she mustered the strength to pull herself back together, standing on her own as she untangled her body from Shiro’s unwavering arms. “I’m fine. I was just — How is this even possible? Lotor is…”

She trailed off, swallowing those dooming words dryly, suddenly unable to continue.       “Dead.” Pidge pipped in, voice cold and robotic. “He’s dead.”

They were oblivious to the immediate response of Allura’s body to their unconscious callousness. How she had flinched, nose wrinkled as if she had just received a nasty blow to her gut. Lance watched her in silence, hands shaking with the desire to cradle her in his arms, whispering what he thought would be a chorus of _“I know how you feel. I know how much it hurts.”_

But, somehow, he managed to remain still.

“Pidge!” Hunk chided, sending a disapproving look in their direction. Pidge simply shrugged in response.

“What? It’s true.”

Lance shook his head. Hunk’s cheeks turned an alarming shade of red, lips parting as the words hung from the tip of his tongue. But Lance was faster.

“We don’t know that.” he said, becoming the sole target of Pidge’s disconcerting gaze. “We just left him in the quintessence field. We have no idea what happened after we were gone. If we managed to get out, maybe he did too.”

“But that’s —”

“What? Impossible?” Lance asked, eyeing Pidge with a raised eyebrow. They snapped their mouth shut, mulling over Lance’s words. “C’mon, Pidge. We fly gigantic cat-like robots across space and we call ourselves defenders of the universe. Is there really such a thing as _impossible_?”

“Wait, wait, wait —” Hunk stepped forward, gesticulating widely as his dark brown eyes landed on Lance, standing in the center of their makeshift circle. “If Lotor is behind Keith’s disappearance, then why did that Altean say she was following her _Empress_ ’s orders?”

Lance thought of that all-consuming warmth coursing through his limbs as Red induced those dreams in his head during his most vulnerable state, threatening to break the walls he had built around his most guarded thoughts and memories. He had sensed almost as if a switch had been turned on, blinding light casting away the shadows lurking on the edges of his fragile mind. He allowed Hunk’s voice to wash over him, evoking dark and ugly and awful knowledge from the depths of that valley of shadows.

“The witch.” Lance blurted the words, barely feeling as his tongue rolled in his mouth and the sound escaped his lips. “Haggar must be helping him. It has to be her. Who else would be so invested in Lotor’s life other than his own mother?”

“Haggar…” Allura echoed Lance’s words, wide-eyed and slack-mouthed. A fearful expression slowly overtook her features, turning grace and unrelenting strength into something weak and brittle.

“We could never find her. She’s still at large.” Shiro spoke up for the what felt like the first time during that entire exchange. Lance could see the blind determination in those steely eyes of his, usually gray and cold, but now burning with unabashed fury. “Allura, tell us how to find that witch. There must be something we can do to track her down.”

“I…” Allura trailed off, brows furrowing deeper as her mind reeled with a swarm of thoughts. Slowly, she shook her head to the sides. “I don’t know, Shiro. She’s powerful. She has probably built many barriers around her mind, to shield her thoughts. It would make it nearly impossible to know her exact location.”

Lance noticed the subtle way Shiro’s jaw contracted, ever so slowly. How his cheeks lost some of their color, how his hands curled into fists, knuckles turning white, and the tight line drawn by his lips.

He felt some unbearable weight pressed against his ribs, squeezing his heart and constricting his lungs. Shiro was the only one there who knew what it was like to be held captive under Haggar’s command. He had escaped her grasp, only barely, and not unscathed. He had returned to them a broken man, missing a limb, a faint shadow of what the real Shiro used to be, haunted by night terrors and drowning under waves of guilt.

Lance couldn’t allow the same thing to happen to Keith. He simply _couldn’t_. The mere thought of Keith returning as anything less than what he was left a devastatingly painful scar in Lance’s heart, an irreparable tear in the fabric of his soul, a bitter taste on his tongue.

“We’ll find a way.” Lance caught himself saying, resolute. They all lifted their eyes to look at him. “We _have_ to. Keith needs us. We can’t leave him at the mercy of that witch any longer.”

Shiro turned a stone-cold gaze towards Lance, giving him a curt nod.

“Lance is right. We’re calling an emergency meeting _now_.” he said, tone bordering on urgency. “Pidge and Hunk, make sure to call Matt and the other rebels. Allura, you and Coran try to work on a way for us to track down Haggar.”

Shiro started barking orders and a collection of affirmative nods followed soon afterwards, free of any lingering traces of hesitation. Pidge and Hunk were the firsts to leave, rushing through the automatic doors without uttering another word. Allura lagged behind, forcing a smile towards Shiro as his eyes fell on her once again, his face painted in clear tones of concern. Before leaving, she spared Lance a quick glance. It barely lasted a second, but it was enough to dissipate some of the tension from his body.

“What about me?” Lance asked once the room was clear, with the exception of him and Shiro.

Gray eyes landed on him — hard and unforgiving — and, for a brief moment, Lance thought Shiro might send him back to his quarters, to rest or to do something equally as useless. He had his jaw clenched, biting his tongue as his brain concocted countless different retorts, words nearly spilling free from his mouth.

“You’re coming with me, Lance.” Shiro said, pointing a finger at Lance and gesticulating for him to follow. Lance blinked the confusion away, rushing to match Shiro’s pace as he headed outside.

“Where are we going?”

“To the med bay.”

Lance wrinkled his nose at Shiro’s response, instinctively pulling his hands away, hidden behind his back. But from the corner of his eye, he noticed Shiro had followed his movements and his lips had parted to release a long, tired sigh.

“You don’t need to hide your hands from me, Lance. I was there when you got the stitches, remember?”

“I’m not —” Lance began, but quickly cut himself short as he caught a glimpse of Shiro’s unimpressed glare directed at him. He swallowed the words instead, sighing in utter defeat before speaking again. “Okay, fine. But I swear I’m feeling better, I can’t even feel that much pain anymore. It’s a miracle, I’m telling you.”

Shiro released a curt laugh, shaking his head. Lance chewed his bottom lip nervously as he stared at Shiro’s chiseled profile, waiting for the laughter to settle down.

“Lance, calm down. I’m taking you there so we can remove those stitches.” he said and Lance exhaled through the mouth, overcome with relief.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh._ ” Shiro parroted, looking down at Lance, who had allowed his hands to hang freely at the sides of his body, instead of keeping them hidden behind his back. “How are you holding up, Lance?”

Lance choked on his own breath, gulping audibly. His steps faltered, losing their tempo for a small fraction before regaining balance and restoring the pace with which he had grown used to. Shiro didn’t stray his eyes from him, searching for anything in his features that could betray his words.

On the inside, Lance felt broken. Cut open, bleeding until he was dry.

He remembered his mother’s words, playing over and over inside his head, like a broken record, saying how those scars never really went away. How the pain lingered, like phantom touches around his heart.

He had been putting on a brave face in the last couple of days, tired of being at the receiving end of so many pitying stares, tired of hearing how awful he looked and how different he sounded and how everything would be okay soon. But _soon_ was a lie. _Soon_ never came. And, so, he learned how to pretend. How to put on a mask and walk the tight-rope of his feelings, managing to plaster a smile on his face. Empty of feeling, devoid of emotion.

“I’m doing okay.” Lance said in a small voice, barely recognizing it as his own. “I mean — It hasn’t been easy, you know? Being without Keith, not knowing where he is. I — I miss him.”

Shiro’s semblance softened at the mention of Keith, eyes made of steel turning into molten pools of metal. Lance averted his gaze, afraid he might drown.

“Yeah, I get it. I miss him too.” he replied equally as soft.

“I just… I can’t stop thinking about all the horrible things they must be doing to him, all the — I just —” Lance grunted in barely contained rage, running his hands through his hair and pulling at the roots until pain erupted from the crown of his head and crawled towards his temples in a downward spiral. “I hate this. I wish I could just… Stop. Stop thinking, stop missing him, just _stop_. I want him back, Shiro. I want him back so I can tell him —”

A short, dull pause.

A brief flicker.

And, then, Shiro’s voice filling his ears.

“What?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as he regarded Lance, waiting for him to continue. “What do you want to tell him?”

“All of it.” Lance said. “All that I have kept buried deep inside. All the lies. All the hurt. All the anger.”

 _All the love,_ he added inwardly, an invisible hand pressing hard against his trachea, his throat slowly closing.

Lance thought that if he could he would crush his own heart at this point, until it broke apart, falling into tiny, insignificant pieces; small enough for them to be carried away by a gust of wind. If there was a button he could press to switch off his feelings — those damned feelings —, he would.

But he couldn’t.

And, so, every morning he woke up with his chest on fire, burning, burning, burning. There was always a moment, between the featherlight weight of a dream and the heavy, crushing reality, where he thought his ribs would crack open and pour all that _want_ caged inside him. He wanted Keith so badly it physically pained him.

“So, you’ve decided.”

Shiro’s voice brought Lance from the edge of a reverie, pulling his feet back onto solid ground.

“What?”

“You’ve decided you’re gonna tell him how you truly feel.” Shiro said upon seeing Lance’s confused expression.

Lance could feel a familiar heat flooding his cheeks with color.

“Yeah, I — I guess.” he stuttered, licking his dry lips as a surge of anxious energy bubbled inside his chest.

Shiro smiled, eyes crinkling around the edges as the gesture overtook half of his face.

“I’m glad to hear it.” he said, taking another step forward. Lance mirrored the action, lips pursed into a thin line, face still burning. “I’m sure Keith will be glad to heart it too.”

In that moment, Lance thought he might actually burst into hysterical laughter. The thought that Keith might reciprocate Lance’s feelings was foolish and nonsensical, borderline laughable. An outlandish idea. Absurd and simply comical. Shiro’s words reverberated in the confines of his head and with each echo Lance felt that impulse growing larger, pushing against his insides, struggling to break free as it climbed his throat. Lance managed to keep this sudden urge bottled up inside, but something must have flickered on his face, because now Shiro was staring at him with visible interest.

_Oh, no._

“What’s so funny? You don’t think I’m happy for you?” Shiro asked as they turned another corner and Lance noticed they weren’t much further away from the medical ward.

“N — No, no! It’s not that, I just —” Lance stopped midsentence, schooling his features into something that resembled control. “Why do you say stuff like that?”

Shiro frowned.

“What kind of _stuff_?”

“Oh, you know…” Lance trailed off, Shiro’s frown deepened.

“No, I don’t.”

Lance huffed impatiently at his side, but Shiro’s face remained impassive. He transferred the weight of his body from one foot to the other, hiding his hands in the pockets of his pants and forcing himself to swallow the uncomfortable knot that had formed at the base of his throat.

“Why do you keep telling me Keith would want to hear that I… Like him?”

Lance flinched at his poorly choice in words. That was perhaps the biggest understatement he had uttered in the entirety of his short, mundane life. _Like_ , his mind echoed, accompanied by a scornful sneer. _I don’t like Keith, I_ love _him,_ Lance corrected himself behind the safety of his mental barriers, feeling rather pathetic for not being able to say the truth out loud. At least, not then. Even though Shiro already knew.

“Because I think he would.” Shiro said with a shrug, as if that was all the explanation Lance needed.

“But you don’t know that!” Lance groaned, closing his eyes briefly before opening them and facing the blank wall ahead. “You need to stop doing that, Shiro.”

Shiro’s eyes grew a fraction wider on his face, blinking rapidly.

“Stop what?”

“ _That_! Stop saying stuff like that. Stop trying to give me hope when I know there is none. Just —” a sigh escaped past Lance’s trembling lips and their eyes met. “Please, just stop. I know what you’re trying to do and it’s a nice gesture, Shiro. It really is. But if Keith doesn’t feel the same way then what you’re doing is just cruel.”

“Lance.”

And the way Shiro spoke his name, all sharp edges and hard tones, nearly made Lance lose his balance. A hand, heavy and calloused, rested on his shoulder, forcing him to an abrupt stop. Lance turned around ever so slowly, almost afraid to see what truth would be reflected on Shiro’s eyes. What he saw made his jaw clench, teeth gridding against one another.

“Lance,” Shiro started once again, eyeing Lance carefully. “What makes you so sure Keith doesn’t feel the same about you?”

Lance huffed, half laugh and half cough, fighting against the urge to roll his eyes at Shiro.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” he said. Shiro lifted his eyebrows, unfazed. “If he had feelings for me, he wouldn’t spend his every waking moment sparring with Acxa, or running around with her, or sharing stupid Blade stories with her, or —”

“Lance, are you jealous of Acxa?”

Lance blinked, mouth opening and closing in quick succession as he searched for the words.

“Can you blame me?” he exploded, gesticulating widely, arms flailing around his head and in front of his chest. “All Keith ever does since we came back to Earth is train with her and I don’t know if this is like the equivalent of Galra flirting, but they are always together. I mean, we barely even talk anymore.”

“Since when do you guys do something as ordinary as _talk_?” Shiro asked, a hint of amusement dripping from his tone.

“A lot of things changed while you were… Away. Keith and I, we — We became close. I was his right-hand man, we were a team.” Lance murmured, almost ashamed of what came out of his mouth, quick to avoid Shiro’s piercing gaze. “But then he left and we wouldn’t hear from him and I was so worried. I kept having those nightmares where Kolivan would call us just to let us know Keith wouldn’t be coming back, but then he did and there was a part of me that thought things would go back to the way they were. Except, they never did.”

There was a pause as Shiro absorbed Lance’s words, tossing them around inside his head, stripping them of their meaning. Lance watched as a swarm of emotions crossed his face, light glinting from his eyes as he shook his head an infinitesimal amount, up and down and then nothing.

“And you think it’s because of Acxa?” Shiro asked, but when Lance didn’t say anything he rushed to continue. “Lance, listen to me. Keith doesn’t like Acxa. At least, not in the way you think he does.”

“How do you —”

“Trust me, Lance.” Shiro pressed harder against Lance’s shoulder, digging his fingers deeper. “I can’t tell you how I know this, it’s not my place. Only Keith can. So, when you see him again, ask him about it.”

Lance felt as if a thing with feathers was soaring in his core, having escaped the cage of bones and flesh it had been trapped into. It flapped its wings, causing a small hurricane to swirl between his lungs. _Hope_ , a voice whispered. Seeing Keith again wasn’t a matter of _if_ but of _when_ and the thought alone was enough to claw at the fabric of his soul, pulling at the seams, being unmade thread by thread. That winged creature flew high, high, higher. Until it found solace in his heart, perching its talons on the soft, beating tissue there.

“Lance, are you coming?”

Lance lifted his head to find Shiro already several steps ahead of him down the empty corridor, one eyebrow raised and head slightly tilted to the side as he waited for the red paladin to follow. Lance winced as the talons punctured small holes in his heart, drawing rivulets of blood. And the pain, like an electrical current, brought him back to reality.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” he mumbled, racing down the corridor to meet Shiro’s retreating form, and, despite everything, his steps felt a little lighter, barely touching the ground.

* * *

 

Lance inspected the work done by the nurse, curling and uncurling his fingers, tendons flexing with each motion. The new, thin layer of skin running horizontally across the palm of his hands was pulled taut; twin, rose-colored scars contracted and relaxed in painless, quick succession. The sole reminder of a blade tearing his hands open was a dull throb where the lines were drawn and nightmares painted a shiny, syrupy shade of crimson.

“Do you feel any pain?” Shiro asked, leaning forward, trying to catch a glimpse of Lance’s hands.

He had been a constant presence at Lance’s side during the procedure, following with intent every movement of the nurse’s hands as she carefully pulled the stitches free, until there was nothing but smooth, healed skin. Lance heard him thanking the nurse before she left, like the perfect gentleman Lance knew him to be, and he could have sworn he saw a streak of pink color the woman’s cheekbones. He had suppressed a laugh at the sight.

“No, I feel fine.” Lance replied after a moment of deliberation.

Shiro nodded, unfolding his arms and looking somewhat relaxed. Lance couldn’t help but notice the tension trailing his every step ever since they had exited the control room and he knew that if he were to take a look inside Shiro’s head he would see his own thoughts reflected back at him, a symphony of _Keith, Keith, Keith._

“Good.”

“Good.” Lance echoed with a tiny smirk directed at Shiro. “Now what?”

“Now, we find Iverson and make sure the Garrison is on board with our rescue mission.” Shiro said, helping Lance climb down from the infirmary bed, feet landing on the linoleum floor with a dull thud. “Preparations need to be made if we want to head back to space.”

Lance snorted at the mention of Commander Iverson, a man who had done nothing but underestimate Lance’s abilities and overlook his every effort in favor of someone else’s. Lance thought perhaps Iverson would have learned his lesson with the sudden disappearance of three of his students — and a former one, as well — but he was proven wrong as soon as Voltron landed on Earthly soil. The Commander had regarded them — defenders of the universe and Earth’s last line of defense — with nothing but clear contempt. To say Lance didn’t appreciate the man was a gross understatement.

Beside him, Shiro hummed softly.

“You don’t seem very thrilled at the prospect of talking to Iverson.” he said as they made their way down a maze of corridors.

Lance did roll his eyes then, a frown settling between thin, dark brows.

“Yeah, no shit, Shiro.” he grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest in unabashed petulance. “The guy is the absolute worst. He hates me, did you know that? He actually hates me. Every chance he got he made sure to tell me what a terrible pilot I was and how I would never live up to the Garrison’s expectations and that the only reason I even got into the fighting pilot program was because Keith had been stupid enough to get expelled. So, forgive me, if I’m not Iverson’s biggest fan.”

Shiro sighed.

“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you, Lance.” he said. “Iverson can be a little tough sometimes, but I know deep down he cares about every single one of his students.”

Lance shook his head, adamant.

“No, he hates me. I’m sure of it.” Lance retorted. “In fact, I think he hates all of us.”

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose, filling his lungs with air before releasing yet another sigh, longer and heavier. The sound of their footsteps grew louder as their words shrank inside their throats. Lance breathed in and out. Opening and closing his hands, pressing harder against that particular slope sculpted in his palms, where thread was now absent, replaced by a thin layer of smooth skin. He opened his mouth, closed it. A crease appeared on his forehead, only to disappear in the instant that followed. Lance opened his mouth again, finding his voice.

“Shiro?” he asked tentatively, barely a whisper.

“Yes, Lance?”

“I just… I wanted to —” Lance sighed, inhaling slowly before continuing. “Thanks for letting me come with you. I don’t think I could spend another moment alone in that room.”

From the corner of his eye, Lance saw the moment Shiro’s lips curled into one of his small smiles.

“You’re an important member of this team, Lance. I couldn’t just leave you behind.” Lance’s stomach lurched at the words, so painfully sincere, and his throat started to close. “Besides, if it weren’t for you, we’d still be searching for answers about who took Keith and why.”

“I could be wrong, you know.” Lance mumbled, struggling to be heard despite the knot on his throat.

“You could be.” Shiro considered and then, more firmly, he added. “But I don’t think you are.”

Lance said nothing and the rest of the short trip to Iverson’s room was spent in silence. He, for once, was glad for the quiet.

* * *

 

“No. Absolutely not.”

Iverson rumbled, like thunder before lightening stroke. His face was set into a scowl — as it usually was —, a deep crease ripping his forehead in the space between his brows, arms crossed before his body, head shaking from side to side. Lance bristled with a vicious flare of anger, vision turning a dangerous shade of red as blood boiled in his veins.

“What do you mean _no_?” Lance blurted, unable to contain his outrage any longer.

The Commander simply stared back at him, lifting an eyebrow, unmoved and unfazed. His reaction only served to fuel Lance’s anger, a dragon that breathed fiery flames in his core, temperature rising to alarming levels.

There was a sudden pressure on his shoulder, a cold touch that smothered some of the flames. Lance snapped his head around and caught sight of Shiro, standing right next to him with a solemn expression on his face, unblinking as he trained those eerily gray eyes on Iverson.

“Lance.” he said it as a warning, coming through gritted teeth. It was enough to reel Lance a step backwards, nails digging deep into flesh as fists were closed tightly. “Commander, please, reconsider. Keith is the leader of the team, without him the paladins won’t be able to form Voltron in the eventuality of another attack.”

“Well, what about you, Captain Shirogane?”

Shiro blinked, lips parting to release a weak:

“What about me?”

“You used to pilot the Black Lion, didn’t you? You could do it again, in the eventuality of another attack.” Iverson replied, forcing Shiro to swallow his own words, dry.

Shiro gulped and, from where Lance stood, he was able to pick up the sharp intake of breath coming the body standing beside him.

“It’s not how it works, Sir.” Shiro politely said.

Lance turned his eyes to Iverson, a stoic figure sitting behind a large desk, like some modern version of an ancient god. He mulled over Shiro’s words, thinking and frowning and squinting that ominous, all-seeing eye in their direction.

“And how do you expect to find him, Captain?” Shiro opened his mouth to speak, eyes flickering as he searched for the right words, but Iverson never gave him the chance. “From what you’ve told me, your only clue to his whereabouts is based on a _feeling_ and on a flimsy theory from a boy who not long ago nearly failed as a cadet at the academy.”

Lance could feel Shiro becoming rigid, exhaling waves of tension that were readily absorbed by his own treacherous body. His muscles were taut, a wire that was winded tighter, tighter, tighter as Iverson poured word after ruthless word.

“You cannot be sure and I cannot allow you to take the Atlas and half of my crew to travel into the unknown completely blind.”

A low, threatening growl escaped Lance’s lips, a clawed animal climbing his throat. A warm presence invaded his thoughts, a snarl filling his ears.

“With all due respect, Commander, you’re making a mistake. I’m not a cadet anymore, I’m a paladin of Voltron, defender of the universe.” he said in a firm, cut-glass voice, as sharp as the small blade that now hung from his belt. “And as a paladin of Voltron, my duty lies with my team. Keith is lost somewhere out there and he needs our help. I can’t — _We_ can’t leave him.”

A thin, humorless laugh left Iverson’s lips.

“I appreciate your fire, McClain. I really do. But the matter still stands.” he said, looking back into Lance’s cobalt blue eyes. “I can’t allow part of my crew to go with you when you don’t even know where to start looking. Space is a big place, it’s easy to get lost.”

“We’ll find a way. Allura and Coran are working on it as we speak.” Lance erupted with barely contain urgency. Shiro pressed harder on his shoulder, digging his fingers deeper into skin, until they met bone.

“Sir, I’m confident we’ll be able to track him down, but we won’t accomplish anything staying here on Earth.” Shiro mustered his soldier tone, the one that never left any room for doubt, the one that used to bring chills down Lance’s spine during their first couple of missions as paladins. “Voltron won’t be able to leave without any backup. They need the Atlas. If we want this to work, it’s imperative that we work together. All of us.”

Iverson sighed, long and heavy and tired, and it was as if a cloud of smoke had descended above his head, painting him in dark, grayish hues.

Lance’s entire body thrummed with energy, skin feverish under Shiro’s strong hold.

“How certain are you about Keith’s disappearance?” he asked.

Lance paused, balance thrown off-kilter, as if his body had been slightly pushed to the side. He frowned, in rage or in absolute shock, he wasn’t entirely sure. Beside him, Shiro’s fingers loosened their grip, mouth slacking open but no sound coming out.

Something ugly coiled and uncoiled inside Lance. Corks working. Thoughts reeling. And then there was only red, red, red.

“What are you implying, Commander?”

It was Shiro who broke the silence, parting the invisible barrier raised between them with a clean, controlled blow.

“Are you sure he was taken and didn’t simply choose to leave?”

Lance heard only white noise once the words reached his ears. Limbs froze, crushed under a thick wall of ice. Silence stretched like a rubber band. _Choose to leave? Choose_ _to leave? Choose to_ —

Until it was torn to pieces.

“Keith Kogane is half Galra, isn’t he? And the woman who supposedly took him is Galra as well, I was told. Have you stopped to think that perhaps he left of his own accord?”

“No.” Lance seethed through gritted teeth. “Keith would never abandon us like that.”

“I remember Kogane. He was an extraordinary pilot, a natural. But I also recall his inability to follow orders, always breaking the rules, always running away.” Iverson shook his head. “He was always unpredictable, unstable. How certain can you be that his true loyalties lie with Voltron and not with his kin?”

“His _kin_?” Lance exploded, molten lava rolling out of his tongue as it leaked from his veins. “You don’t know Keith. But I do. I trust him with my life and I know for a fact he’d save me without a spare thought. He’d save each and every one of us. Even you, Sir.”

“Lance —”

“No, Shiro. He needs to know.” Lance snapped, without ever breaking eye contact with the Commander sitting before him. “He needs to know no one is gonna replace Keith as the pilot of the Black Lion. He needs to know we won’t stop until we find him.”

If Lance was a volcano — a ruthless force melting away everything that dared to cross in his path — then Iverson was a glacier, cold and impenetrable and thick enough to contain the lava from slipping any further.

“Careful, McClain… I’m still your Commander.”

“No, you’re not.” Lance said and somewhere behind him Shiro sucked all the air in the room in one single, sharp intake of breath. “Not if you choose to abandon a former cadet, a paladin of Voltron, a friend. Think about what message this action would send to the thousands of alien races currently living here on Earth, trying to build a new beginning, to run from a thousand-year-old intergalactic war. Just… Think about it, Sir. That’s all I’m asking.”

Iverson and Lance stared at each other. Eyes cocked at one another, loaded weapons caught in a standoff. Time ticked by as neither moved to pull the trigger, a first shot suspended in time.

“I see you’ve changed, McClain.” Iverson began, leaving his seat. “But some things will always remain the same. You’re still following in his footsteps. I warned you about it, do you remember?”

The sound of the chair being dragged across the surface of the pristine floor was the only audible sound in the room. Lance’s eyes followed Iverson’s every move as he rounded his desk and came to stand before him. Lance held his breath captive in his lungs, an agonizing weight pressing down on his chest.

“Very well. I’ll allow this rescue mission to take place, despite all the risks and all that entails to Earth, left unprotected during your absence. But I assure you the Galaxy Garrison will honor its word and will do everything in its power to assist you in your journey.”

And, just like that, Lance could breathe again, chest deflating as air was pushed out of his lungs. Without enough oxygen to fuel the fire raging inside, the flames slowly languished and died.

“Thank you, Sir.” Lance sighed, half exhale and half whisper. Shiro echoed his words a moment later, stable whereas Lance wobbled, tongue twisting awkwardly around syllables.

Iverson spared them nothing but a single, stern nod.

“Captain Shirogane, begin preparations for the Atlas to take-off.” he said before turning to Lance, who stood a little straighter, shoulders a little stiffer, chin lifted a little higher. “And McClain, I hope you don’t make me regret this decision.”

Lance felt a peculiar fluttering in the center of his chest, where his sternum was supposed to be, like the wings of a caged bird desperate to be set free. The feeling grew and his ribs parted to allow that small, shapeless creature to escape. _Hope_ , he thought.

“You won’t, Sir. I promise.”

On the other side of that door, standing in the middle of an empty corridor after being excused, Lance tentatively traced the markings etched on the hilt of Keith’s Marmoran blade. For the first time in days breathing was somewhat easy. Things were finally looking up, he thought with a smile.

* * *

 

The cafeteria was bustling with people. Seats were all occupied, tables crowded. Lance flinched slightly at the sound of loud voices and honest laughter and noise, so much _noise_. He had grown in a chaotic household, surrounded by his brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces, so naturally he should feel at home in an atmosphere such as this.

Except, he didn’t.

Noise wouldn’t bring him comfort. Company felt hollow, overrated, not enough. People were just people. And noise was just that: _noise_. All Lance truly wanted was to dig a hole at his feet, right where he stood, and crawl into the darkness to find solace in the silence. Away from all those pairs of eyes watching his every move, dissecting his every choice, whispering behind his back every time he crossed those doors.

He released a strangled grunt as he stabbed another piece of broccolis with his fork, holding it with more force than necessary. He felt like a caged animal, being displayed behind a thick wall of glass. Anxious, restless and ready to run at any given moment.

Lance thought he might have done just that if it weren’t for the long-limbed, short-haired figure sliding in the empty seat next his. He managed to count until five before his table was also filled with noise.

“What did that broccolis ever done to you?”

Lance rolled his eyes, loosening his grip on the fork until the white faded from his knuckles and his skin returned to its natural color.

“Stop annoying me and go sit with your friends, Veronica. They probably miss you.” he grumbled, not looking at his sister.

At his side, Veronica hummed softly, as if weighting down the words that had just left his mouth. Lance watched her from the corner of his eye.

“Probably not.” she said, at last. Lance lifted an eyebrow, ears picking up on the sorrowful notes dripping from her tone.

“Did something happen? Was that James guy? Did he say something?” he asked, turning in his seat to face her properly. Veronica seemed intent on averting her faze from his, staring at a far corner in the cafeteria.

“Not really, I just —” she paused, sighing in defeat as she finally allowed her eyes to meet Lance’s. “Yesterday we found some detailed coordinates and notes hidden in Acxa’s room. We figured that’s how she managed to steal a ship and flee from here completely unnoticed. She knew all of the Garrison’s secrets, all of the angles where the cameras wouldn’t catch her. Everything.”

Veronica groaned loudly, taking off her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. She looked tired, on the verge of tears, throat working tirelessly to prevent another suffocated noise to escape her mouth. Lance looked back at her and frowned. He wasn’t used to seeing his sister like this, lost and aching with guilt. Whoever this person was, it wasn’t his sister. It wasn’t Veronica. It wasn’t Ronnie.

“We all suspected as much. What is the real problem, Ronnie?” he asked, mustering the softest tone he could manage.

When Veronica returned his gaze, Lance thought he might choke on his own breath, taken aback by the brightness in those blue eyes of hers. Under the fluorescent lights, Veronica’s eyes seemed even bluer than before, as clear as the water from the beaches in Varadero. Lance felt his heart flutter and pause inside his chest. It was longing and homesickness and understanding altogether.

And then it picked up the beat once again.

“The only reason why she knew so much about the Garrison in the first place was because _I_ told her about it. Do you get it now, Lance?” Veronica retorted, voice catching in her throat the way it only did when she was angry.

The frame of her glasses rattled against the table’s surface and the sound startled Lance. He looked down and caught a glimpse of her trembling hands, how uncontrollably they shook. He covered her fingers with his own, pressing hard. Hard enough to bruise. Hard enough to make her stop moving, luminous blue eyes trained solely on him. Lance heard a familiar _crack_ as something broke inside him. He wondered if the splintered bones had pierced any vital organs, but there was no pain, no blood swimming on his tongue.

“Ronnie, don’t blame yourself for what happened. You couldn’t have known.”

“I should’ve been smarter than this. I should’ve seen the signs.” Veronica insisted, shaking her head vigorously. “Why didn’t I see it, Lance? _Why_?”

Lance looked back at her and suddenly he _knew_. He knew that lost look on her face, and the frown between her brows, and the grim line resting on her lips. He knew why those eyes shone brighter than before, drowning in unshed tears and waves of desperation. He knew because he felt the same.

And, all of a sudden, Lance was transported back to that small corner in the back of his mind, where he would sit and hide, counting down the seconds until everything stopped. All the pain, all the longing, all the sorrow and the sadness. Until Keith would return to him and he would be made whole again.

“Because you care about her.” Lance said, his words a gentle caress on Veronica’s ears. She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze and suddenly she knew it too. “Love makes us blind sometimes and we refuse to see what’s right in front of us.”

Something resembling a sigh left Veronica’s lips and she turned her hand around Lance’s grip, intertwining their fingers, palms touching. It was resignation and acceptance. It was the kind of connection only siblings shared. A deep understanding that could be heard with each heartbeat, a loud thrumming that resonated within their bones.

Veronica brushed their hands together, pulling him closer. But something was different, something was lacking. Lance could practically read the thoughts roaming around inside her head, almost as if they had been written all across the lines of her face.

“Lance?” she began, hesitant, a deep frown set on her forehead. Lance hummed innocently in response.

Veronica opened her mouth, tongue sticking out to wet her bottom lip.

And then —

“Lance, your hand!” Veronica blurted, abruptly pulling her hand away from his and wrapping her fingers around Lance’s thin wrist instead. She trailed her eyes carefully across clean, smooth skin in fascination. “The stitches are gone! When did you take them off?”

“Oh,” Lance blinked, scratching the back of his head with his free hand. “Earlier this morning. Shiro took me to the infirmary before our meeting with Iverson.”

“I told you it would scar. It kind of suits you, though. The whole rugged, scarred soldier look.” she replied, sounding far away, mind travelling to distant places. “I — Wait a minute, did you just say you and Shiro had a meeting with Iverson? As in Commander Iverson?”

Lance breathed out a short laugh, pulling his hand away from his sister’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Go annoy your friends, Ronnie, and leave me alone.” he said playfully, not really meaning any of the words. Veronica simply smiled in response, reading the truth scribbled in the footnotes of his voice.

“Oh, but it’s so much more fun to annoy my little brother.” she said, grin digging a pair of dimples into her cheeks. Lance rolled his eyes in dramatic fashion and battled her hands away from his face.

“I know what you’re doing and I’m telling you to stop now.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop feeling ashamed for what happened with Acxa. Your friends don’t blame you, Ronnie. And neither do I.” Lance said, bringing Veronica to an abrupt stop. “Besides, you should be the one to tell them that we’re all going to space.”

Veronica inhaled sharply, eyes doubling in size behind the lenses of her glasses.

“ _What_?” she screeched, loud enough to make Lance flinch and to attract a few wandering looks towards their table. “What do you mean we’re going to space? Is this what the meeting with Iverson was about?”

Lance shrugged, fighting against the urge to smile. He barely succeeded.

“Iverson agreed to a rescue mission. We’re gonna be leaving soon.” he explained. “Shiro is already taking care of everything.”

“Does that mean you found Keith?” Veronica asked, sharp and breathless.

Lance swallowed, wetting his lips before speaking.

“It’s not that simple. But we know who might have took him, so it’s only a matter of time before we know where he is being kept.” Veronica nodded in understanding, the lines of surprise on her face softening a fraction. “If I were you, I’d start packing, sis.”

“Oh, my God…” she whispered, bringing her hands to her face and grinning maniacally. Lance couldn’t hold his laugh inside him any longer. She met his eyes and the expression of pure, unabashed shock in her face turned into one of absolute awe. “We’re going to space, Lance.”

“Yeah, Ronnie.” he said, still smiling. “We’re going to space.”

Veronica stood abruptly from her seat, energy bouncing off of her body in chaotic waves. She could barely hold still, a large smile plastered on her lips and a peculiar glint illuminating her eyes.

“Shit, I need to go tell Rizavi. She’s gonna freak out.” She proudly announced, practically skipping with poorly contained excitement.

“Finally, someone else for you to annoy.” Lance said, shooing her away with his hands. “Go, go. You can’t let Rizavi waiting.”

Veronica looked at Lance from over her shoulder, lips crooked upwards with mischief. She spared him a quick wink and a two-fingered salute.

“Oh, don’t worry, Lancey-Lance. I’ll come annoy you later.”

Lance shook his head, eyes following her retreating figure before returning to the half-eaten meal growing cold before him. With a sigh, he lifted his fork and pierced another piece of broccolis.

* * *

 

A scream burned past Lance’s lips, leaving a path of scorch marks as it climbed his throat. His arms ached, fingers stiff and numb as they calcified around the hilt of his Altean broadsword, blade slashing through walls made of thin air, movements elegant and agile. He was getting better. Faster. Stronger. Keith would have been proud. Lance wondered if he might stand a chance against him now.

 _Probably not_ , he added inwardly.

The thought made him laugh, no more than a puff of air, short and suffocated. But loud enough to trespass the boundaries imposed by his tiresome lungs and ragged breathing, echoing across the training room, causing Kosmo’s ears to stand on high alert. The sight made Lance laugh harder. He crossed the space separating him from the cosmic wolf, lowering to a crouch once he got close enough.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, boy.” he said, running gloved fingers in Kosmo’s thick fur. A satisfied groan left the animal’s throat. “I was thinking about Keith. I wish he was here to see me right now, how much I’ve improved in just a few days.”

Lance smiled, something that came with some difficulty to his lips nowadays. Kosmo tilted his head, round yellow eyes regarding him back with curiosity, a wild innocence to them.

 _Only a few more days_ , Lance reminded himself.

Preparations were running smoothly, according to Shiro, and in only a few more days they would be leaving Earth behind a second time and plunging into outer space, where Keith waited for them, lost somewhere into the unknown.

But every day Lance spent on the ground, away from the stars, was like a blade sinking in his chest, slow and deliberate, as it was pushed an inch deeper with each labored breath he took.

A flare of white light illuminated the room for a brief second as his bayard returned to its original form. Lance’s knees collapsed onto the cold floor, hands flying to his belt, where he unsheathed the small blade Krolia had given him.

Every day he would look at those alien markings, that ominous purple light, that cut-glass blade, and think about Keith. He would look and look and look. Hoping for an answer. Hoping for a sign. Hoping for _something._

But there was nothing to hope for.

Lance looked down at his hands, palms covered under the coarse fabric of his gloves and scars hidden from sight. He curled and uncurled his fingers, feeling the way his skin was pulled taut before relaxing once again. It was an odd sensation. And it gave him pause every time he had to perform a particularly intricate movement, grip loosening around the hilt of the sword for half a second before the strength returned to his tendons.

It had been a rare occurrence lately, happening less and less frequently during training sessions.

 _Improvement_ , he thought.

Lance was tracing the markings scribbled into the hilt for what felt like the hundredth time, following that same old pattern, shape imprinted behind his eyelids at this point, when he felt something vibrating, a buzzing sound filling his ears with static.

He carefully sheathed the knife, pulling out his communicator device and replacing the weight on the palm of his hand. He frowned as he spotted Shiro’s name lighting up the small screen.

“Shiro?”

_“Lance, we need you at the control room. Everyone else is already here.”_

“Did something happen? Did you find Keith?” he asked tentatively, heart fluttering inside his chest. He closed his hands into fists, trying to smother the feeling; not really allowing himself to believe, to hope.

 _“It’s complicated…”_ Shiro replied with a sigh. Lance felt his heart being squeezed behind his ribcage. _“Come to the control room and we’ll explain everything.”_

Lance swallowed thickly, clearing his throat before continuing.

“Okay. I’m on my way.”

The line went mute a second later.

Lance turned to Kosmo, who perked up at the sound of his name being called.

“They need us, boy. C’mon.” Lance said, burying his fingers in Kosmo’s gray mane and closing his eyes.

Blinding light exploded behind his eyelids and the ground disappeared from beneath his feet. It only lasted for a heartbeat, no more than a fleeting moment, and then he stepped onto something solid, no longer falling at high velocity.

The control room was eerily silent, and, for a moment, Lance thought Kosmo had taken them to the wrong place. But then his eyes landed on four familiar faces and he allowed himself to breathe again.

“What’s going on?” Lance asked, looking from Hunk to Pidge.

They shared a noncommittal shrug, arms folded and mirrored semblances of confusion. Lance frowned at their response, turning towards Shiro and Allura, who stood side by side at the other end of the room, close to the control panel.

“They refused to speak until all of us were together.” Hunk said.

“Well,” Pidge began, raising a pair of eyebrows until they disappeared completely behind those thick locks of honey-gold hair. “Now that we’re all here, can you guys tell us what’s going on?”

“Yeah. What was so urgent? I was in the middle of perfecting this Altean recipe Coran has been helping me with and —”

“It’s about Keith, isn’t it?” Lance cut in, something raw and desperate clawing its way free from the depths of his throat.

He watched as Shiro and Allura exchanged a glance, sharing a silent conversation the rest of them wasn’t able to understand. But what other explanation was there? Lance could feel his body thrumming with a restless energy, blood pumping loudly in his ears as his heart galloped faster, faster, faster. He closed his hands into fists, hoping to smother the dull throbbing sensation spreading from his palms, scars itching.

“What is it? Just tell us.”

Allura let her eyes fall closed, releasing a small sigh. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. She was choking on air, blue eyes becoming glossy as water gathered around the corners.

Lance’s heart turned into glass, shattering to pieces.

 _No_.

_No._

_No._

“Allura,” Lance murmured, a brittle edge to his voice. “Please, tell me Keith isn’t —”

“We’ve found him.”

Shiro’s voice reverberated across the room, deep and booming. Lance blinked once, twice. In his dreams, when he would hear Shiro speaking those same words over and over again before being forced back to reality, there were bright smiles and even brighter laughter and the tears cascading from their eyes and down the sharp slope of their cheekbones were filled with happiness.

But Allura didn’t seem happy now. None of them did.

“Where?” Lance choked out the word, as if it burned his tongue to say it.

Shiro glanced towards Allura, who appeared to have been petrified under Medusas’ spell, eyes empty and mouth hanging open. He sighed with something akin to resignation.

“We’ve received a video message not long ago.”

“A message? From whom?” Pidge asked with a sudden picked interest. Shiro looked at them before turning back to Allura, as if searching for permission.

“I think it’s better if we show you.” she said, looking back at him.

Allura stepped away from Shiro’s looming form and moved towards Lance. He could hardly notice her approaching figure, following her from his peripheral vision. His focus, however, was solely trained on Shiro as the former paladin made his way to the control panel, typing a quick command on the keyboard.

Lance sent a sidelong glance to Allura once she settled at his side, arms brushing together, hands hovering only millimeters apart from one another. He could feel her body heat, smell her jasmine-scented hair, see the luminous lilac flecks surrounding those cerulean blue orbs. Without really giving much thought to what he was doing, Lance reached for Allura’s hand, intertwining their fingers. A small, weak sound escaped from her throat and Lance felt a strong pressure around his knuckles, heavy on his tendons.

He pressed back, hard.

“Allura —”

He sighed, but he didn’t have the time to finish because another voice — viscous as blood and smooth as velvet — crawled inside his ears with spidery legs, rattling his every coherent thought and replacing it with a terribly familiar darkness.

_“Greetings, paladins…”_

Lance lifted his eyes to the large screen before him, eyes growing wide and covering half of his face as they took in the face displayed there, in careful detail and in rich hues of lavender and silver. He was certain his heart had stopped beating. His blood turned into ice. His bones as frail as glass. He could feel his mouth moving, breath escaping in the form of a sigh or a whimper or both.

“Is this —” Hunk stuttered, but was quickly swallowed by Pidge’s more eloquent response.

“Are you kidding me? How is this even possible? He should be dead.”

They all fell silent then, eyes trained on the screen. Unblinking, unable to look away, completely mesmerized by that princely charm and sultry voice.

“It’s him.” Lance heard his own voice echoing inside his head, but he wasn’t entirely sure he had spoken the words until he felt Allura’s grip tighten around his hand. “It’s… Lotor. He’s alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hesitate to leave comments! And feel free to message me on tumblr if you feel like it: @niccoarte  
> Hopefully the next chapter won't take this long to get done fkdjkf let's pray!  
> xx


	8. part viii - and i hear a storm is coming in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one had ever told Lance how lonely it could be. How strongly he would crave for someone to just hold him, to hold his body tight and to never let go. He could feel the space between him and the stars growing further, silence replacing words. Time was running out. And Lance wanted to forget. He wanted to forget he had a body, he wanted to forget he had ever loved — just once, just that one time —, he wanted to forget how broken he felt.  
> He wanted to forget about Keith.  
> But all he could think about was how much he wished it was his arms holding him instead of Hunk or Pidge’s, how he longed for the press of his fingers to twist them together until they both fell apart.  
> “You’re not alone, Lance.” Hunk murmured in his ear, so firm and close Lance couldn’t contain those sorrowful notes lodged in his throat any longer. “Do you hear me? You’re not alone.”  
> Lance opened his eyes to the sky, hoping to find nothing but pitch darkness, but a distant flicker of light caught his eye. A lonely star, burning a kaleidoscope of colors — blue, red, purple —, waiting far below the endless abyss. And it called to Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter comes from the song 'Anchor' by Novo Amor (which is such a klance song for me idk why it just is kfdjfk). Again, sorry for the late chapter but carnaval was last week and I wasn't even home for most of it so I didn't have much time to write. But we're finally reaching the climax of this story yay!  
> Thanks for all the kudos you guys leave here and all the sweet comments. You are literally the best! <3

**part viii**

**and i hear a storm is coming in**

* * *

_And I hear your ship is coming in_

_Your tears a sea for me to swim_

_And I hear a storm is coming in_

_My dear is it all we’ve ever been?_

* * *

 

Lance was furious.

His entire body shook with rage, muscles seizing, nerve endings searing hot and bright. His hand closed around Allura’s with enough force to bruise if she was a human, but as it was, he knew no damage would be done to her bones and knuckles. His lungs worked with some difficulty, unable to capture enough oxygen, burning too quickly and too strong. Heart beat fast, a persistent, painful throb in the back of his head.

And, then, Allura’s fingers closed around his, applying the smallest of pressures; so light and gentle Lance almost thought he had imagined it. But, in his peripheral, he saw their fingers intertwined, like puzzle pieces fitting together.

It was _real_.

Lotor was alive.

And Keith was still gone, gone, gone.

Lance gritted his teeth as the video started playing, Lotor’s mouth moving effortlessly, eyes trained forward.

 _“Greetings, paladins.”_ the Lotor on the screen proudly began, voice slightly distorted from the audio recording. Next to him, Lance caught a glimpse of blue-tinted skin and short, dark hair. Blood boiled in his veins. _“Did you miss me as much as I missed you? I couldn’t think about anything else during the time I’ve spent alone in the quintessence field.”_

 _“But, rest assured, I do not seek vengeance against any of you. That much I can promise.”_ he added after a brief pause. _“There are more pressing matters at the moment, as you’ll soon understand.”_

Lance had his eyes glued to the screen, throat slowly closing in as a single thought pulsated inside his head, pushing against his skull, running with his blood.

_Where is Keith? Where is Keith? Where is Keith?_

_“I understand it might be difficult for you to believe my words, but I have no desire to deceive you a second time. Or to assist the woman who has kept me as a prisoner, like some savage beast.”_ Lotor spoke with ease and confidence, a peculiar lilt to his voice. Lance had heard that same cadence coming from Allura’s lips, painting her voice in foreign, silky tones. The sound had made Lance’s heart sing once, but now all he could feel was a heavy dread settling in the empty space between his ribs. _“In Haggar’s ship I met your leader, the black paladin. The one you call Keith.”_

As Keith’s name left Lotor’s lips, Lance was assaulted by a strong, powerful wave. Electricity coursed through his veins, a current so strong it brought chills to his spine, raising his temperature to dangerously high levels. His fingers loosened around Allura’s, palms no longer touching, knuckles uncurling from one another in one swift, soundless motion. He felt his body spiraling out of control, moving without any conscious command of his brain. His feet stepped forward, his back turned to Allura and eyes trained on the screen, locked onto Lotor’s virtual gaze.

Lance felt his lips parting slightly, enough to breathe out a name. Only once. Only for his own ears.

_Keith._

No other sound could be heard in the room, everyone falling into stunned silence. No words were uttered, no voices raised. All that ever was were the sinful confession coming out of Lotor’s mouth and quiet. A cold, terrible quiet.

 _“He was being kept in Haggar’s ship as a prisoner as well. Acxa came up with a plan and we managed to escape, but Keith_ — _”_ Lotor stopped midsentence, looking sideways at Acxa, who sat silently still at his side, a voiceless shadow. Her eyes never met the screen, face turned down in shame. _Good_ , thought Lance. She should feel ashamed for what she had done. All the lives she had ruined. All the hearts she had broken. _“We tried to take him with us, but Haggar’s magic was too powerful. Whatever she’s done to him, it made it impossible for him to leave.”_

_“There isn’t enough time to explain everything, but we’re setting our course to Earth and we hope you’ll grant us free passage to your planet. According to my calculations, by the time this message reaches its destiny, we’ll be entering your solar system. You have my word that what I speak is true. Believe me this time. Your black paladin’s life depends on it.”_

Lotor and Acxa’s forms flickered for half a second before the screen turned a pitch black, voice and static swallowed along with it. Lance remained utterly still, eyes unblinking as he stared and stared at the now empty screen. He waited for something. _Anything_. A sign of life. A sign of Keith. But there was only silence.

He released a breath, long and hard. As the fire died down inside his veins, ice crept into his articulations, filling his core with winter as snow fell inside, covering his bones with a thin layer of white.

“Do you believe him?” Hunk was the first to speak, sun rays slipping through the cracks in his voice, melting away the ice and bringing some color to Lance’s cheeks.

“What? Of course not!” Pidge exclaimed, words ablaze, fueled by large amounts of vitriol. “This is clearly a trap.”

“But what if —”

“Are you seriously considering it? Guys, c’mon! This is Lotor. He’s lying.” Pidge insisted, cutting Hunk with enough vehemence to hurt. Lance had a glimpse of his slumping shoulders and pursed lips.

“Pidge.”

Shiro called and the way their name fell from his lips demanded silence. Pidge closed their mouth, bottom lip partially hidden behind two of their front teeth. Lance was reminded of the way his older siblings used to treat him whenever he was being too loud or too stubborn.

“Pidge has a point.” Lance heard himself saying, but he couldn’t remember having opened his mouth. The words continued to fall, lips moving restlessly. “Lotor is a liar. He’s lied to us before, he’s lying to us again.”

Shiro sighed, turning to look at Lance. His eyes had turned an odd shade of silver under the gleam of the fluorescent lights. Lance stared back, unmoving.

“Listen,” Shiro began and everyone fell silent. “I know we can’t trust Lotor, or Acxa for that matter, but what if he’s telling the truth?”

“He’s not!” Lance erupted, stepping forward, aiming for Shiro’s stone-cold figure.

He moved closer, closer, closer. Until they were breathing the same air, eyes meeting in a stalemate. Lance had his chin lifted high, defiance written across every line of his face — in his pinched brows and pursed lips —, eyes blazing a blue inferno. Shiro didn’t so much as flinch at Lance’s fast approach, eyeing him expectantly.

“Lance, please, consider this —”

“There’s nothing to consider, Shiro.” Lance cut him short with a single, sharp blow. “I’m not letting Lotor set foot in my home to destroy it.”

Shiro huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose as a sigh escaped his mouth, patience running thin.

“Why would Lotor send this message warning us of his arrival if he was just planning to attack Earth?”

“Because it’s a trap! Why can’t you see that?” Pidge yelled, somewhere behind Lance.

“Dude, calm down a little. I think we should listen to Shiro.” Hunk intervened, resting a hand on Pidge’s shoulder and forcing them to take a step back.

Lance snapped his head backwards; the movement was so abrupt he thought he might have heard a sonorous _crack_ reverberating in his ears.

“What?” Lance hissed through gritted teeth.

Hunk sighed, brows furrowing together as his eyes landed on Lance. He sounded almost apologetic when he spoke again.

“Lance, I know we’re not supposed to trust Lotor, but we could at least hear what he has to say.” Lance opened his mouth to protest, but Hunk raised a hand, signaling for him to stop. The words weighted heavy on the tip of his tongue. “It’s Keith we’re talking about. If Lotor is telling the truth, then we’ll be one step closer to getting him back. Don’t you want that too?”

Lance swallowed thickly, throat dry and coarse.

“But what if he’s not?”

He sounded so terribly weak, voice wavering, unsteady. He could barely recognize as his own. He felt small. All of his fiery courage and burning energy dwindling, like the flame of a candle in the middle of a raging storm, becoming less and less, until there was nothing but cold and shadows.

Fear slowly crept its way between his ribs, crippling his mind with painful thoughts and agonizing possibilities; turning his heart into something made out of glass, brittle and breakable.

He felt hurt, wounded.

Lance felt as a presence grew around him. A shadow — tall and large — melting against his across the floor. And then, there was the weight of something warm above his shoulder — a hand —, and the soft pressure of fingers as they dug deep into flesh. Lance looked over his shoulder and caught sight of Shiro. He clenched his jaw as he felt the beat of wings inside his chest, blood pumping loud in his ears.

“We’ll be ready for him this time.” Shiro said and he sounded so sure, voice dripping with such unabashed certainty…

Lance desperately wanted to believe him.

He could feel his anger simmering down, languishing in size until there was nothing left but ashes and cold embers.

Shiro nodded down at Lance, a silent question hovering in the air between them. Lance hesitated, unsure. But all it took was one look in those steely gray eyes, that stern resolve, grounding and solid and real. Lance could feel his entire being molding itself to Shiro’s touch. He leaned forward and gave Shiro a firm nod of his head in return.

From where he stood, he could see the moment Shiro’s lips fluttered with the ghostly touch of a smile, corners curling upwards.

“This is a terrible idea. If Slav was here, he’d tell you there’s a 99% of chance for this plan to go wrong.” Pidge mumbled, crossing their arms in front of their chest.

“Well, we still have that 1%, right?” Hunk pitched in, smiling.

Next to him, Pidge groaned.

“You know, sometimes I hate how optimistic you are.”

“No, you don’t.”

Lance watched Pidge and Hunk for a brief moment. How easily they returned to their customary bickering, how Hunk would wrap his arms around Pidge and lift them up in the air, how Pidge would always scream in delight but insist to be put down. Lance watched them and he felt as if his chest had grown smaller and smaller with each passing second, unable to contain all the emotions swirling around inside his heart. He missed them. His friends. His family. And, in that moment, he couldn’t remember why he had pushed them away in the first place.

What was he so afraid of?

But his eyes fell on Allura, strangely silent as she stood alone in a corner, folding within herself almost as if she wanted to hide or disappear. He saw the distant look in her eye, the pinch between those white eyebrows, and suddenly he remembered.

They would never understand what it was like, to love and not be loved in return. To feel your heart shattering to pieces with every languish beat, to die an agonizingly slow death as black water filled your lungs, to drown in an ocean born from your own tears again and again and again.

They would never understand.

But Allura would.

Before he registered what he was doing, Lance had his mouth open and the sound of his voice filled the room.

“What about you, Allura? What do you think we should do?” he asked, staring back into those lilac-blue orbs.

The raucous bickering raging behind Lance came to an abrupt stop and the hand on his shoulder pressed down harder. Allura had her head held high, jaw clenched as some nameless emotion crossed her elegant features, illuminating the markings on the corners of her eyes, painting her cheekbones a luminous shade of pink.

“Lotor is coming and there’s nothing we can do to stop that. We can only be ready for when he arrives.” she said, dryly.

Lance could hear the fiery determination leaving scorch marks behind her every word, but underneath all that he could also hear the painful notes of a broken heart, how those shards of glass grew sharper and pierced deeper.

“Are you sure you’re okay with that, princess?” Shiro asked softly.

From where he stood, Lance noticed the subtle flinch of her shoulders, the thin line drawn by her lips.

“It doesn’t matter what I feel. I am, before anything else, a defender of the universe. I will not let Lotor destroy this planet the same way his father destroyed mine.” she lifted her eyes and met Shiro’s gaze. “We should begin preparations for his arrival. And we should do it _now_. I’ll let Coran and Romelle know we’ll be needing their assistance.”

Allura moved then, heels meeting metal floor with loud, heavy thuds until the sound was swallowed by the automatic doors sliding open and closed. A solid silence filled the space Allura had left behind.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Pidge asked.

They had their eyes focused on Shiro, waiting for an answer, a command, anything.

“We need to figure out a way to contain both Lotor and Acxa once their ship land.” he said, fist closing around his chin, deep in thought.

“But how would we do that? It’s not like we have the Castle’s technology to keep Lotor in some advanced prison like last time.” Hunk said, a hint of defeat creeping into his tone.

There was a beat of silence and then someone gasped loudly.

“I think I know what we could do.” Pidge exclaimed, running to the control panels and scribbling something down, fingers working fast and relentless across the keyboard.

Shiro and Hunk followed, orbiting around Pidge as their eyes scanned through each line of code they had already typed in. Lance had remained in the periphery, looking from a safe distance, lost in his own thoughts until he felt that telltale gravitational pull as it brought his feet back to the ground.

 _Veronica_ , he thought. _I need to tell Veronica about Acxa._

With two long strides, Lance found himself standing before the doors, hand pressed against the lock mechanism imbued in the wall. A gust of wind greeted him once the doors opened and he took another step forward.

“Lance? Where are you going?”

Lance paused, looking over his shoulder at Hunk, Pidge and Shiro. They all had matching frowns on their faces, a confused look painting each of their eyes in different colors. The room had grown silent again as Pidge’s fingers no longer tapped across the keyboard, resting limp against their thighs instead.

Lance swallowed, quirking his lips slightly upwards in a makeshift smile.

“I just need to do something. But I’ll be back soon, I promise.” he said, and, to his own surprise, he realized he meant it.

Hunk and Pidge seemed unconvinced, confusion pooling in their eyes. Shiro seemed to be the only one able to read whatever had been written across his face, because he simply nodded and said:

“We’ll be waiting, Lance.”

With something that resembled a real smile tugging at the edges of his lips, Lance turned around and went through the automatic doors.

* * *

 

Lance found Veronica at the shooting range. There was no one else there but her and the loud echoes of shots being fired in rapid succession. Lance did not dare to step any closer, leaning against one of the pillars with his arms crossed before his chest. He watched from afar as his sister hit the bull’s eye, shot after shot.

She never missed.

Not once.

And Lance was left in staggering awe, mouth hanging open and eyebrows shooting skyward, touching the dark strands of his hairline. As she came to a pause, resting the gun at the side of her body and inspecting the many bullet holes left on the target’s surface, Lance came out of his hiding spot, clapping his hands once, twice, until the sound reached Veronica’s ears as she uncovered them from the soundproof headphones.

She turned her head around and her eyes doubled in size as she spotted Lance’s approaching figure. Leaving the gun on the floor at her feet and letting the headphones hanging around her neck, Veronica left the shooting booth and met Lance in two long strides.

“ _Bravo_ , sis. I didn’t know you could shoot like that.” Lance said with a long whistle, eyes landing on the marks Veronica had carved against the target. “It’s the McClain blood, I guess.”

“Lance, what are you doing here?” she asked in return, raising a brow.

“What? I couldn’t just have stopped by because I missed my big sister?” Lance retorted with a shrug and a playful grin that lacked any real emotion. Veronica stared at him for a beat or two, waiting. Skeptical.

“Lance.”

“Oh, you hurt my feelings, Ronnie. You really do.”

Veronica ran a hand through her hair, pulling at the roots, and those blue eyes of hers rolled behind the thick lenses of her glasses.

“Lance, just say it.” she said dryly, bordering on impatience.

Lance sighed, opening and closing his mouth a few times before finding the words buried deep inside, grabbing them with trembling fingers, careful not to let them slip away from his grip.

“Aren’t you tired from standing up for so long? Don’t you wanna sit down first?” he said instead, nervously biting his bottom lip.

“ _Lance._ ”

“Okay, fine.”

Veronica frowned, tilting her head a fraction to the side as she regarded Lance; the annoyance swimming in those cobalt orbs was slowly replaced by waves of curiosity. Gray clouds gathered at the horizon as a cold wind blew. A storm was coming.

She took a step closer, narrowing her eyes back at Lance. He fought against the impulse to flinch and recoil under her gaze.

“Spit it out, Lance.”

Lance’s bottom lip escaped from behind his front teeth with a soundless _pop_. He breathed in through his mouth, long and deep, trapping the air inside his lungs for a moment longer before exhaling.

“Acxa is coming back.” he said it all in one single, quick breath.

It reminded Lance of the sensation he felt whenever ripping off a band-aid from a bruise, only it was a thousand times more painful. Lance felt his entire body grow tense as he met the horrified look in his sister’s eyes, as if she had been drenched in an electrical current. He dreaded the responsibility of being the one to pour such a heavy burden on those slim shoulders, but someone had to. _He_ had to. At least, that’s what Lance silently repeated to himself as he watched the horror spread across Veronica’s face in dark, awful ripples.

“She’s coming back to Earth. To the Garrison.” Lance added after a short pause, watching as the color was completely drained from Veronica’s cheeks. She remained quiet, rooted to the same spot, as if frozen in time. Lance could feel himself growing restless, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his uniform shirt. “Ronnie, say something.”

Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Lance saw from the corner of his eye the moment she closed her hands into tight fists, a desperate attempt to hide the tremors running up and down her arms. She had failed. Lance had noticed. But, for once, he kept his lips sealed and his tongue trapped inside.

The room was filled with the sounds of her shallow breathing, low and erratic.

“How —” Veronica opened her mouth and then snapped it shut, swallowing whatever was constricting her throat before continuing. “How do you know that?”

“We got a message from Lotor.”

“Lotor? As in that evil space prince you told me about? _That_ Lotor?” Veronica asked, a deep frown crawling its way between her brows. Lance simply nodded. “I thought you said he was dead.”

“We all thought he was, but turns out we were wrong.” he replied, sighing in defeat, or perhaps in shame. He wasn’t sure. It had been a long time since he last felt sure about something. “He’s coming to Earth and Acxa is with him.”

“Oh, God…”

Veronica’s voice was no more than a whisper, something small and fragile and foreign coming from the depths of her core. Lance’s hands itched with the desire to reach out. To touch. To envelop her in his arms. To be an anchor and keep her grounded.

That’s what family was. A protective force. Reliable and strong and _safe_.

Lance breathed in, taking a step forward, hand stretched out, aiming for the white knuckles in Veronica’s curled fist.

“I — Sorry. I just…” he paused, shaking his head. Veronica didn’t say anything. All she did was stare. “I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

He glanced back at her from behind his eyelashes and waited for a response. For a moment, Lance thought Veronica wouldn’t grant him with anything but stoic silence. But her head moved in a curt, nearly absent-minded nod. And it was enough for him.

“Ronnie, are you —"

“So,” Veronica’s voice came out abruptly, giving Lance no chance to finish. “Is Keith coming along with them?”

He shook his head in a rather pathetic manner, tongue tied and numb. His outstretched hand began to fall at his side, drawing a slow curve in the air. _It hurt_ , Lance thought. Talking about Keith. Thinking about him. It _hurt_. And, apparently, it would never stop hurting.

“No, he —” Lance stuck his tongue out and licked his parched lips, quietly reminding himself to breathe in and out through the pain. “He’s not coming. Haggar still has him.”

“Oh…” Veronica mumbled. “I’m sorry, Lance.”

“What are you apologizing for? It’s not your fault.” his tone was dismissive, but he knew Veronica could see how the blue in his eyes threatened to spill, painting his cheeks with rivulets of glossy tears. “I should be the one apologizing after delivering this news. I know how much you care about Acxa. So, um, sorry.”

Veronica smiled. It was a thin stretch of lips, fleeting and barely enough to reach her eyes, but a smile nonetheless. Lance wished he could mirror the action, but he couldn’t feel anything, strangely empty.

“Stop it. I’m fine, Lance.”

Lance lifted an eyebrow.

“Do you wanna try that again? And this time with feeling.”

“I told you, I’m fine.” Veronica parroted, but Lance heard the cracks ripping across the surface of her words.

“Ronnie, I know you, remember?” he said. “You’re really not —”

“Let it go, Lance!” Veronica blurted out. Lance flinched at her tone, tearing him apart like a frail sheet of paper. “I’m fine, I promise. Thanks for coming all this way just to tell me this. But you can go now.”

Her eyes met Lance’s, but it only lasted a moment. And then she was turning on her heels and marching with heavy steps towards the row shooting booths. She picked up the gun she had laid forgotten on the floor and carefully placed it between her fingers, aiming it forward. With her eyes trained on the target ahead, she didn’t even bother to spare Lance another glance.

Lance watched from afar how her chest undulated with each breath. In and out, in and out, in and out. He watched as she lifted her chin just an inch higher, closing her left eye as she took aim, filling her lungs with air and allowing herself to drift into that suspended momentum before taking a shot. Finger hovered above the trigger, shoulders squared up and elbows held steadily.

A moment of absolute silence as she closed the final distance separating her finger from the trigger. An explosion roared inside Lance’s skull, loud and clear and awfully familiar. He buried his hands inside the pockets of his pants, struggling with the urge to cover both ears, thoughts clouded behind a thin veil of smoke.

When he spoke again, his voice was marred with something as sharp as thorns, hoarse and unrecognizable.

“I’ll just… Leave you to it then.”

Lance didn’t wait long enough for a response, if there ever was one. He simply turned around and left. His feet carried him to the automatic doors and he was reminded with each step of the sound of gunfire.

As the doors closed behind him, his ears picked up on a muffled sound. A _weak_ sound. A _raw_ sound. A sob, suffocated behind thick walls. Lance closed his eyes and felt it resonate deep inside his chest, beneath layers of skin and flesh and blood, rattling his bones and setting the creature inhabiting his ribcage on fire.

Lance wondered if the blue in Veronica’s eyes had spilled like his. If it had painted her dark skin with the gleam of glossy, salty tears.

He thought perhaps it was a McClain thing.

To always seek the good in people.

To aim true and shoot sharp.

To break like a furious wave as it hit the shore, over and over and over again. Too fast and too hard and too much.

* * *

 

After he had left the shooting range, Lance made his way back to the control room. He had found all three of them still hunched over the panels, Shiro and Hunk flanking a tiny Pidge on either side as they strategize a plan to contain both Lotor and Acxa once they arrived on earthly soil.

Lance had approached them with silent steps and was greeted with a gentle pat on the back from Shiro and a warm smile from Hunk. Pidge didn’t so much as move their eyes from the screen, the insistent _clack clack clack_ of their fingers working across the keyboard sounded impossibly loud in his ears.

Lance had pitched a couple of ideas once or twice, but mostly he listened. Until an alarm chimed through the Garrison’s speakers, announcing it was dinner time. Hunk had seemed eager to leave the room, forcing a wide-eyed Pidge to follow him, albeit begrudgingly. Lance watched them go, lagging behind.

He remembered the look Shiro had sent his way, filled with concern. Lance had dismissed him with a sheepish smile and a wave, claiming he was following Hunk and Pidge to the cafeteria as he crossed the room.

But, at some point, he had deviated from course.

His feet had carried him through mostly empty corridors and distantly familiar paths. He went up, up, up, climbing a narrow set of stairs and going through an old-hinged door that led to the rooftop. It was empty, as usual. Nothing but the beauty of the stars and the light of the moon to keep him company.

Lance walked to the ledge, as he always did. And he sat down, with his legs balancing in the air, a gust of cold wind blowing the loose strands of hair away from his face. He had his eyes closed, breathing in the night breeze. A bright light painted his eyelids a deep shade of crimson and the newfound weight pressing down on his lap forced his eyes to flutter open.

Lance smiled a true smile, teeth borrowing the white glow of the moon. Kosmo sat there, looking back at him with those yellow eyes of his, tongue hanging from the side of his open mouth, tail wagging happily in the air.

“Hello, boy. I was starting to wonder where you’ve been all day.” Lance said, scratching the underside of Kosmo’s jaw.

He wagged his tail higher, barking only once before lying down next to Lance, nesting his head comfortably on his thighs.

Lance had his head tipped back, neck exposed, eyes narrowed as he forced his vision, desperate to find a shimmering white dot glowing against the dark fabric of the sky. But all he found was a dense, bottomless blackness.

It was a starless night.

There were no brushes of lilac clouds and no flecks of celestial bodies dotting that small expanse of infinity. Only darkness. Impenetrable and all-consuming. Lance took a deep breath, feeling suffocated all of a sudden, not enough oxygen reaching his starved lungs.

He averted his eyes from the sky, feeling terribly foolish to wish for things that would never come true. Instead, he looked down. To the arid desert ground expanding for miles underneath his feet, dangling over the edge of the rooftop. To the concrete floor, silver under the moonlight, a roughness grazing his palms. To Kosmo’s sleeping form beside his legs, head nested on his lap, wolfish ears twitching every now and then from enigmatic dreams.

“What do you see when you fall asleep, boy?” Lance murmured to no one but himself, pressing a hand on top of Kosmo’s head, feeling the softness of his fur slide between his fingers. “Are you like me? Do you see him every time you close your eyes too?”

There was no response but for another light flicker of one of Kosmo’s ears, warm breath touching Lance’s stomach. He sighed.

And, in the stillness of the night, Lance’s ears picked up on a new sound amidst all the quiet. The door behind his back, usually closed, was now being pulled open, its old hinges screeching in protest. He turned his head around, just enough to take a glimpse of the intruder. Beneath him, Kosmo steered awake; gold-rimmed eyes blinking away the shadows, teeth exposed in a snarl at the prospect of a threat.

Lance had his hand flying instinctually towards Keith’s Marmoran blade, fingers freezing around the hilt as his eyes focused on the two oddly familiar figures now setting foot on the roof.

“Hunk? Pidge?” Lance’s voice was carried by the wind, the frown on his forehead softening as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. “What are you doing here?”

“You missed dinner, so we brought you some food.” Hunk said, pointing to the packed lunch currently resting between his hands.

Lance’s eyebrows shot upwards, a weak “ _Oh_ ” leaving his parted lips. Behind Hunk, Pidge let the door close, and together the two of them made their way towards the ledge, sitting down on each side of Lance.

“Here.” Hunk put the food on Lance’s lap rather unceremoniously, forcing him to forsake the knife hanging from his hip to avoid its contents to spill all over him.

“Thanks.” Lance said, voice so low he could barely recognize as his own. Shame had spread through his bloodstream and sipped into his mouth. He didn’t dare to look at either of them, too afraid of what he might find reflected back at him.

“So,” Pidge tentatively began, dragging that one syllable longer than necessary. “Are you gonna tell us what is going on with you these days? Or do we have to guess?”

“Pidge —”

“Lance, we can see you’re hurting. We’re just trying to understand _why_.” Hunk said at his other side.

Lance closed his eyes then, with enough force to prevent any light from creeping in. He couldn’t do this. He just _couldn’t_. Shaking his head, Lance struggled to turn his thoughts into proper words. Suddenly, looking for the right words and forming sentences became an unbelievably difficult task.

“I don’t know if I can.” he said, cracking and breaking, words pulled at the seams.

“Just try.”

And the softness in Hunk’s voice tone forced Lance to open his eyes and look at him for what felt like the very first time. Those round, brown eyes were staring back at him with such warmth and kindness Lance found himself unable to look anywhere else. He opened his mouth, only to close it a moment later. He still couldn’t find the words, swimming in a sea of scrambled thoughts inside his head.

“Listen, Lance, we’re sorry if we made you think like you couldn’t tell us stuff.” Pidge said and Lance could feel something sprouting inside his chest, taking root and spreading, constricting his throat. “But we’re here now.”

“Yeah, man, you can always count on us. For better and for worse, right?” Hunk pitched in and Lance felt the knot blossoming, growing and filling his lungs and throat and mouth with its roots and branches. He couldn’t breathe, he could hardly speak. “Is this… Is this about Keith?”

 _Yes_ , Lance wanted to say. _Everything is about him._

But his lips wouldn’t stop trembling and his chest wouldn’t stop hurting and then he was crying. It was as if autumn had arrived and leaves were falling from his eyes and tongue, sickly-sweet tears drawing ugly patterns down his cheeks, dripping from his chin and finding solace in the slope of his neck.

Lance heard his name being called, but the sound was muffled under the torrent of cries and the trembling of shoulders. He could feel strong hands around him, pulling him closer, turning his entire world off-kilter. Lance allowed himself to fall, head colliding against a solid chest, tears staining the yellow of Hunk’s uniform.

“Lance, do you want us to leave? We understand if you need some space or —”

“Don’t.” he choked out, silencing a hesitant Pidge. He didn’t have to look at them to know they had those big eyes trained on him, a small hand gently grazing his arm. “Don’t leave. Just… Stay.” a shuddering breath, chest staggering; branches crawling and petals falling. “I — I don’t wanna be alone anymore. Please.”

No one had ever told Lance how lonely it could be. How strongly he would crave for someone to just hold him, to hold his body tight and to never let go. He could feel the space between him and the stars growing further, silence replacing words. Time was running out. And Lance wanted to forget. He wanted to forget he had a body, he wanted to forget he had ever loved — just once, just that one time —, he wanted to forget how broken he felt.

He wanted to forget about Keith.

But all he could think about was how much he wished it was his arms holding him instead of Hunk or Pidge’s, how he longed for the press of his fingers to twist them together until they both fell apart.

“You’re not alone, Lance.” Hunk murmured in his ear, so firm and close Lance couldn’t contain those sorrowful notes lodged in his throat any longer. “Do you hear me? You’re not alone.”

Lance opened his eyes to the sky, hoping to find nothing but pitch darkness, but a distant flicker of light caught his eye. A lonely star, burning a kaleidoscope of colors — blue, red, purple —, waiting far below the endless abyss. And it called to Lance.

 _Meet me here_ , it seemed to sing along with the blood pumping in his ears. _Come home to me._

Hunk’s arms closed tighter around his body and Pidge rested their head against his shoulder. Neither of them said a word. And, together, the three of them waited as the hours passed. Together, embraced in a cocoon made of strong arms and warm skin, they watched the starless night sky. Together, they made a silent vow of never letting go, sheltered under the shadows.

 _Wait for me_ , Lance promised to the boy he had lost to the stars. _I’m coming._

* * *

 

Three weeks.

That’s how long it took for Lance to hear the alarms blasting all across the Garrison.

He was awoken from another one of his nightmares with the screams of sirens and the scarlet glow of emergency lights. A robotic voice reverberated in his room, flat and devoid of emotion. It told them to go through security measures, over and over again.

 _This is not a drill_ , it said, ringing loud and clear in Lance’s ears. _This is not a drill._

Three weeks of sleepless nights and dragged out days. Three weeks of watching Pidge and Hunk work tirelessly on enhancements for the prison cells, designing a new pair of handcuffs — much ore advanced than the ones they currently had at the Garrison —, one that Lotor wouldn’t be able to break free from.

Three weeks.

That’s how long it took for Lotor to find them.

Lance jumped out of bed, stumbling on his own feet as he gathered the discarded pieces of clothing he had thrown across the room the night before, struggling to get dressed. He had barely finished closing the latches of his boots when Shiro’s voice boomed from the communication device resting on the bathroom counter.

Lance thought he could feel the moment his heart stopped beating as unease touched his bones, slipping through the cracks like some phantom apparition.

“ _All paladins are required in the control room. Immediately._ ”

With an eloquent curse muttered under his breath, Lance put the device away in one of his pockets and stormed through the automatic doors. He was met with chaos. Cadets running down the corridors, fleeing from their dorm rooms; red lights blasting in rapid intervals, hectic footsteps and the cacophony of dozens of voices, loud and desperate. And the _noise_. So much noise.

Lance stumbled backwards against the doorframe when another cadet flew past him, brushing their shoulders together for one, fleeting second.

“ _Dios mío_ …” he mumbled, frowning at the sudden throb on his left shoulder. Shaking his head, he caught sight of Kosmo, a dutiful presence at his feet. He had those yellow eyes turned at him, as if waiting for instructions. Sighing, Lance took hold of a handful of fur. “C’mon, buddy. It’s time.”

The air around them sizzled with electricity and all noise faded away. Footsteps and voices and sirens. It was all gone as the world was swallowed by a wave of white.

There was only quiet.

And, then, there was nothing else.

* * *

 

“Lance!”

There was a collective gasp when Lance materialized at the center of the room, appearing behind a curtain of blinding light with a gigantic cosmic wolf dutifully at his side. Heads immediately turned, eyes open wide and mouths hanging open. But the shock couldn’t have lasted more than a brief second, soon fading to oblivion as chaos erupted across the control room in bursts of sound and flashes of crimson.

“Captain Shirogane, the unidentified vessel has entered Earth’s atmosphere.” a dark-skinned man with luminous, blue eyes said from one of the seats disposed in front of the control panels. “Its trajectory appears to be headed towards the Garrison, sir.”

“How long do we have, Curtis?” Shiro asked, standing impossibly tall and regal at the main bridge.

“Not long, sir.” he said, an edge to his voice. “About ten minutes, give or take.”

Lance followed Shiro and Curtis’ line of sight, eyes meeting the screen, where an alien ship — dark and built on sleek lines — was shown descending upon the Sonoran Desert, fast approaching. He stepped closer, gulping audibly as he watched its wings and tail spreading across a sea of sand, covering the ground in shadows. A sense of dread had crept into his bones, cold and all-encompassing.

“Is that him?”

Lance snapped his head sideways, losing himself momentarily into a pair of McClain eyes. He hadn’t heard Veronica’s footsteps and he couldn’t know for how long she had stayed there, at his side, silently watching.

She tilted her head at him, eyebrows lifted in silent questioning. Lance swallowed with some difficulty.

“Yes. That’s Lotor.” he replied, half murmur and half exhale, still reeling from the unexpected arrival.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed her stiff posture — all hard shoulders and folded arms —, her clenched jaw and the sharp edges sprouting from every single one of her features. Lance gently bumped his shoulder against hers, testing stormy waters, so light he wasn’t certain she had felt it until she had turned her head to meet his gaze, the blue in those eyes hidden behind dark clouds.

“Don’t be scared, Ronnie. We’re ready for them. We spent the last three weeks preparing ourselves for this moment.” Lance said, trying to sound reassuring. But the response he got from Veronica — a sigh and a curt nod — was anything but encouraging.

“I’m not scared about _that_.” she said then, pinning Lance to the spot with those shards of ice she had for eyes. “It’s not about Lotor. It’s about —”

Veronica’s voice dissolved amidst a disarray of many others, all desperate to be heard over an impending threat, carried with the inevitability of rain, a torrential downpour and a colossal wave washing away all that was known and familiar. All that was safe. All that _was_. This time, when Veronica hovered around his periphery, like a satellite slipping out of orbit, Lance noticed. She was a presence that increased in size, a breath held tight between a pair of lungs, words suspended on time, uncrossed arms and reaching hands.

Lance found himself unable to avert his eyes from the screen before him, hypnotized by the slight curve drawn under Lotor’s careful hands as the ship floated only a couple of meters above ground, preparing to land on foreign, arid soil. He watched with narrowed eyes, intent and unblinking, counting down the seconds until impact. Somewhere close, he could hear Hunk’s voice, mumbling something under his breath. Unlike Pidge, he didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, fidgeting as he spoke.

“Oh, man, he’s coming. I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Hey,” Lance called for Hunk, leaning forward to be heard over beats and creaks of machines. Hunk’s eyes met his. “We’ve got this, man. It won’t be like last time. Remember what you told me? You’re not alone in this. I got you.”

Hunk released a strangled breath, nodding at Lance’s words. His lips parted to give way to a trembling smile.

“Paladins.”

Allura’s voice was carried through the busy room, resonating within Lance’s ears in broad strokes of golden and silver, lilting as two precious stones grazed against one another. Melodic and sure. She had been born to lead and they had been born to follow. And Lance found her there, in the center of the dais, standing beside Shiro, and yet seemingly no less tall than the broad man beside her. There was nothing broken about her now, only fierce determination.

“The moment has come to prove to Lotor we’ve learned and grew from our mistakes.” she spoke proudly, desiring to be heard. They could do nothing but listen, helpless under her otherworldly spell. “We’ll do as planned, and we’ll keep Earth safe. It’s time.”

Heads shook all across the room, voices answering in unison.

“Pidge, are the cells ready for them?” Shiro asked.

“Yes.” Pidge replied with a firm nod. “Hunk and I finished up the final details last night. There’s no way Lotor and Acxa will be able to escape a second time.”

Shiro’s lips flicked with a lopsided smile, pleased with the answer he had gotten from Pidge.

“Then we’re good to go.” he said, turning to the control panel. “Curtis, make sure everyone else onboard is safe and then open the doors.”

The paladins gathered around Allura, waiting for her as she called out orders to Coran. Lance caught a glimpse of Romelle. A shadow behind Allura, constantly orbiting in a distant corner, following her movements with clean intent. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment in time, ephemeral. But something about it gave Lance pause, an uncomfortable itch spreading under his skin, like microscopic needles piercing his every pore.

“Lance? Are you coming?”

Hunk’s voice startled Lance, deviating his thoughts from the hazardous path they had begun to trail. He blinked in response to Hunk’s frown, hurriedly following his footsteps after a moment of hesitation, any lingering doubt safely stored at the back of his mind. He had no time to duel on tricks fabricated by his more than vivid imagination.

 _Paranoid_ , Lance chided himself mentally, _you’re being paranoid._

Outside, the desert sun left a trail of searing kisses across every exposed inch of bronze skin on Lance’s body, freckles glistening honey-like against the soft curves of cheekbones. He bathed in the warmth, a wave of heat blazing through his nostrils as he took in a deep breath, rekindling a forgotten hearth inside.

Blue eyes fell on the alien ship looming ahead and Lance felt those flames spreading like wildfire through his veins, a destructive force taking the form of curled fists and an animalistic growl, white bared on knuckles and teeth alike. A low rumble rattled his bones, a fire spirit whispering scorching truths in his ears, telling him to _move_ , to _go_.

And, so, he _went_.

Lance carried himself with all the ruthlessness and viciousness of a warrior, thirsty for blood, heartbeat rumbling in his ears like war drums. And there was something in his eyes and in the one-sided curl of his lips. Something cold, a silent promise imprinted in the cruel blue of his irises.

A threat.

Anything but idle.

Lance could feel the surge of adrenaline taking a strong hold of his frantic heart, a captive locked in a cage made of violence and aggression. He could feel the anger boiling, rage rolling in bitter waves out of his tongue, grunts and snarls, and fear recoiling to a faraway corner inside him.

His eyes landed on a crown of white hair, shimmering in the distance. Pale, lavender skin turned a lighter shade under the unforgiving rays of sunlight. Something blue flickered at the edge of Lance’s line of sight, but his vision had tunneled out on the broad-shouldered figure currently exiting that alien vessel, crossing a slick, metal-like bridge until the heels of his armor touched solid land.

Lance’s feet moved at high speed, ears picking up on the echoes of his name being called at his back. Only then did he realize he had left behind his fellow paladins and some of the Garrison officers that had followed them outside, too entranced by the sight of Lotor to see or hear anything else. They begged him to slow down, to turn around, to come back. But he didn’t stop. He kept on moving forward, a sharp aim pointed straight ahead. He was the gun, trigger and bullet altogether. His scarred hands prickled with an odd longing, missing the weight of a hilt nested comfortably in his palm. Keith’s blade hung as a painful reminder from his belt and it took Lance an agonizing amount of self-control to restrain himself from reaching out to it.

He closed his hands into fists instead, safer than a luxite blade, less likely to cause any permanent damage.

Long strides turned into shorter, clumsy ones, and as he closed the distance separating him from Lotor he felt his arm raising, closed fist drawing a dangerous, invisible curve before connecting with an exposed patch of flawless, lavender skin.

There was the unmistakable noise of bone crashing against bone, hard and carelessly, followed by Lance’s muffled cries as he was assaulted by the impact, waves of pain ricocheting towards his own hand, sprouting from his knuckles all the way to his wrist.

“ _Fuck._ ” he cursed under his breath, cradling his bruised hand against his chest, inspecting damage. Before him, Lotor released a low grunt.

“Lance! What do you think you’re doing?” Shiro asked, seizing Lance by the arm in a strong grip. Those gray eyes pierced a hole in Lance’s blue ones. “That’s not how we handle things. What were you thinking?”

“He deserved it.” Lance said simply, avoiding Shiro’s reprimanding gaze and sending a deathly glare in Lotor’s direction. “This was for Allura. And for everything else.”

Lotor lifted his head, the movement slow and deliberate. He had a hand covering the bruised side of his face, yellow, Galra-like eyes glistening gold under the sunlight; full lips pursed into a thin line, jaw set as hard as stone. No sound had come out from his mouth, in pain or outrage. He was silence personified, seemingly docile as two of the Garrison officers approached him with the newly made cuffs, designed by Pidge with Coran’s assistance. It would be enough to keep Lotor and Acxa at bay. Unescapable, they said.

Lotor didn’t so much as flinch as the restraining material was carefully wrapped around both of his wrists, leaving his face bare.

Lance’s lips curled up into a pleased grin. He tried to refrain that incredibly satisfied look from taking over his face at the sight of a purple bruise blossoming on the apple of Lotor’s face, but he had little success in the task. Something strongly resembling pride overwhelmed his senses, rolling from his body in ripples, pettiness in disguise. And, for the first in forever, Lance felt strangely _good_.

“Take them out of here, to their designated cells.” Shiro ordered to the waiting officers, who responded with a single, firm nod.

“Is this how you treat your allies? Forgive me, but I’m unfamiliar with earthly customs.” Lotor said, opening his mouth for the first time. He had a smile on his face, even though he sounded as if cotton had been pushed inside his mouth, face rapidly swelling from Lance’s ruthless blow.

Shiro turned his steel gaze towards him, scowling in that perfected manner only black paladins seemed to know how to. Lance was glad he wasn’t the one on the other end of that gaze.

“We’ll talk to you later, Lotor. Until then, I suggest you remain quiet.” he said.

Lotor’s smile widened and he bowed his head a small fraction in response to Shiro. Mockingly, derisively, before being carried away. Behind him, another pair of officers had Acxa flanked on both sides, wrists bound at her back, head held low, eyes glued to the ground. Kosmo let out a vicious growl at her sight, canines exposed, sprouting from the dark flesh of his gum. She didn’t say anything, not bothering with excuses. She barely cared enough to lift her head as she passed through a distraught Veronica near the Garrison’s entrance, no more than a voiceless phantom.

Veronica watched her disappear behind a pair of doors with the semblance of someone who had seen a ghost, pale and livid. She found Lance’s eyes amidst the crowd, blue on blue, waves colliding. He wanted to say something, to reassure, to protect. To do anything other than stay silent. But, before he could get any sound past his lips, Veronica was already gone.

“I didn’t know you had it in you, man. Are you feeling better now that you took it out of your system?” Hunk asked, a sudden apparition towering at his side.

Lance gave him a side glance and a smirk, conceding with a shrug.

“Yeah, I do actually. I feel a lot better.”

“And here we all thought Keith was the hothead of the team.” Hunk said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Lance tried not to flinch at the casual mention of Keith, flexing his fingers, testing the strain it took on his knuckles. It hurt to move, but the pain was a dull throb, nothing like the fire ignited by the cut-glass tip of a blade tearing apart the soft skin of his palms.

“But, um, maybe you could have thought about that a little better.” he added after a while.

Lance frowned.

“Why?”

“I don’t think Allura would agree with how you chose to handle things, buddy.”

“I can handle her.” Lance said dismissively, not really paying attention to Hunk’s words, eyes still intent on the bloody rivulets sliding down the slopes of his knuckles.

“I hope you’re right about that, because she’s headed this way and she doesn’t look happy.”

Lance snapped his head at Hunk, eyes wide.

“What?” he hissed.

Hunk said nothing, pointing to the white-haired, angry princess marching her way towards them, severe lines marring her face, lips set into a grim line. Lance swallowed another curse as it threatened to roll from his tongue.

“Lance, what were you thinking? Going after Lotor like that? What if he had his sword with him?” Allura erupted, molten blue lava leaking from her eyes and sipping into her mouth, burning hot and bright.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing he didn’t have it, then.” Lance murmured, only half joking.

Allura stared back at him, unamused, nostrils flaring as anger boiled at the surface. Beside her, Shiro had the bridge of his nose pressed between two of his fingers, hand partially covering the scar running horizontally across his face, a fringe of white and silver falling over his eyes.

“Lance, this is not time for jokes. This is serious. You could have gotten hurt.” Shiro said with a sigh, gray eyes emerging from behind a curtain of hair. “Did you even stop to think about the consequences of your actions? We can’t afford to lose you too, Lance.”

Lance’s entire body deflated at Shiro’s words, like a balloon with a hole driven through its fragile surface. Shoulders sagged, a small puff of air left his unattended lips. He looked down, feeling unbelievably small.

“Right. Voltron comes first.” he struggled to speak, voice tied to a knot at the base of his throat, unwilling to get out.

“You — What? No, Lance, listen…” Allura started, a shadow closing in into his, their silhouettes drawn against the arid terrain. Lance felt her cooling touch on his shoulder and somewhere deep inside he found the remaining courage to look up and meet the electric blue of those Altean eyes. “This is not about who would pilot the Red Lion or about Voltron. We couldn’t afford to lose you because you’re family, Lance. Losing Keith was bad enough. If you were gone too, I don’t know how we would make it through this war.”

She stopped then, taking a breath, closing her eyes, as if it physically pained her to say the words.

“We would miss you, Lance. So, try to be more careful. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Allura is right, Lance.” Shiro added, coming to Lance’s other side and pressing down on his shoulder, where neck met clavicle. “Please, don’t do that again.”

“Are you kidding me? That was awesome!” Pidge exclaimed in delight, laughing and driving a fist up in the air.

Lance choked out a short laugh, bumping his fist against Pidge’s, momentarily forgetting about the bruises marring the skin on his knuckles. He hissed in pain at the harsh contact, pulling his hand back protectively.

“ _Ow_!”

There was a sigh, long and tired, and then Shiro was guiding Lance away from the makeshift circle of paladins that had formed around him and back towards the Garrison.

“C’mon, let’s take you to the infirmary. Someone needs to take a look at that.” he said, hand still wrapped tightly around Lance’s arm.

The nurse had raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Lance’s sudden appearance at the infirmary, sighing in resignation at the sight of his bloody knuckles. After cleaning the open scabs littered there, she rounded his hand in thick layers of gauze, sending a pointed glare Shiro’s way and telling Lance to be more careful in the future.

He smiled apologetically in return, rushing out of the medical ward with Shiro close behind, struggling to match the fast pace set by Lance’s stupidly long legs.

“Was it really worth it?” he asked, pointing towards Lance’s bandaged hand.

“Yes.”

“Lance.”

“What?”

“ _Lance._ ”

There was a warning disguised in Shiro’s tone, but Lance could hear it as clear as the bells from the small church nearby his house in Varadero. It was slightly unnerving.

When Lance didn’t answer, Shiro continued.

“What you did back there was really impulsive and incredibly stupid. But you know that already, don’t you?”

Lance closed his eyes and counted to five inside his head, reminding himself to breathe in slowly through the nose and out through the mouth.

“I know that. I don’t need a lecture, Shiro.” Lance said, eyelids fluttering open. “I just — When I saw him standing there, I remembered all the horrible things he’s done and I lost it.”

Next to him, Shiro sighed. He sighed a lot, Lance couldn’t help but notice. He wondered if Shiro did it around anyone else or if he was the only one who brought it out on him.

“I feel like I’ve had this same conversation with Keith many times before, but it never gets any easier.” Shiro said, a rueful pull to his lips. “You’re not a kid anymore, Lance. You need to think before you go around punching people in the face. Lotor could be armed, he could have hurt you.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I had Keith’s knife with me the whole time.” he said. At Shiro’s lack of response, Lance rushed to add, tripping over the words. “So, you know, I could have defended myself if he ever tried anything.”

“You have Keith’s knife?” Shiro asked, confused. Lance swallowed thickly, nodding. “How did you —”

“Krolia gave it to me.”

“She did?”

Another nod, eyes glued to his dirty boots, refusing to meet the confusion swimming in Shiro’s gaze.

“She must really trust you.” Lance heard Shiro say, and, without even looking, he was still able to discern the smile curving the corners of his mouth.

Lance shook his head, biting down his lip.

“It’s not me she trusts.” he said.

 _It’s Keith_ , he added as an after-thought. _Keith wanted me to have his knife._ _The one he never parted with. The one he never let anyone else touch,_ ever _. He wanted_ me _to have it._

But before Shiro could say anything, their communication devices chimed loudly in their pockets. Coran’s voice reached their ears soon after, demanding both of their presences in the interrogation room. Lance was glad for the interruption, silently thanking the intergalactic entities working on his behalf.

The room where Lotor was being kept was eerily similar to the one they first used to interrogate the Altean pilot before she disappeared in a curtain of smoke and ruins. Lance and Shiro joined the other paladins, stealing quick glances at Lotor through the glass, sitting with his hands cuffed over the table, patiently waiting.

Lance frowned, noticing there was no one else in the room with him.

“Where’s Acxa? She should be here too.”

He caught a glimpse of Hunk and Pidge exchanging a look between them, but it was Allura who answered.

“We thought it might work better if we interrogate them one at a time. Besides, Lotor might have important information regarding Haggar’s plans.” she said. “He’s the priority right now, Lance.”

“But what about —”

“He’s ready for you, princess.” Coran cut in, tone firm. Next to him, Romelle lingered, silent as always, eyes drifting across each paladin until settling a moment longer on Lance. He felt a chill touch the base of his spine.

“Thank you, Coran.” Allura said shortly, turning around towards the adjacent room.

Lance lunged forward, fingers circling Allura’s wrist, locking her in his grip. Her brows furrowed together, lips parting to protest.

“Wait! You can’t go in there alone.” Lance said, looking her in the eyes.

“Lance, is this really necessary? Lotor is handcuffed.”

“Oh, I have to agree with Lance, princess. You should take someone with you.” Coran pitched in, receiving an annoyed sigh from Allura.

“Fine.” she said, glancing at Shiro. “Shiro can come with me.”

Shiro gave Allura a stern nod.

“As you wish, princess.”

“I’m coming too.” Lance blurted out, driven entirely on impulse. It took him a moment to recognize the words as his own, not remembering having opened his mouth in the first place.

“Lance, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I don’t need you to —”

“I’m coming, Allura.” he repeated, the cut-glass sharpness of a luxite blade sipping into his tone. Allura closed her mouth, frowning. “Lotor knows where Keith is. I’m going in with you.”

Allura’s semblance softened at the mention of Keith and Lance wondered if she had heard the brittle notes of his voice, broken shards of glass floating away in a sea of agony. A part of her must have understood, because her next words brought with them a wave of relief.

“Alright.” she said in a gentle voice. “You can come.”

Inside the interrogation room the temperature was cold, causing the hairs on the back of Lance’s neck to stand on end. Only their breathing could be heard amongst the silence, the sound of a door closing behind them. Lance flinched at the screech of metal brushing against metal, attention jarred back towards Lotor, smiling as if he had been keeping a secret, dark and terrible.

“Oh, hello, princess.” he said in that sultry tone of his, blinking at Allura, smile growing wider on his purple lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment. To see you again.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t say the same.” Allura retorted, cold and bitter. Lotor lifted his eyebrows, tilting his head in a lupine manner.

“I missed you, Allura.”

“Don’t.” she gritted out, jaw clenched. “This is not a reunion, Lotor. This is an interrogation.”

A shadow crossed Lotor’s features, eyes gleaming under the brightness of the fluorescent lights. Underneath them, a dark bruise was in full bloom, purple and blue and every color in between. Lance relished at the sight.

“Very well.” Lotor exhaled, expression aloof. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know. But, first, I need you to uncuff me.”

Lance blurted out a curt, humorless chuckle, unable to contain himself. Beside him, Allura huffed in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious.” Lance exclaimed in disbelief, shortly interrupted by the firm tone of Allura’s voice.

“No.” she said. “You are a prisoner, Lotor, and you’ll be treated as one.”

“I’m not your enemy, Allura.” Lotor replied, leaning his body forward on the table, his weight resting on his elbows.

“Dude, last time we saw each other you were literally trying to _kill_ us. So, yeah, I think this puts you at the top of our enemy list.” Lance said with a shrug, meeting Lotor’s unforgiving glare.

“That wasn’t me! I’m not trying to excuse my behavior, but you have to understand… The quintessence, it changes you. It can drive you mad sometimes. You have to believe me. I’m telling the truth.” Lotor insisted, exasperated. Lowering his head, he released a low sigh, contemplating his restrained hands. “What could I possibly say to make you believe me?”

Lance took a step forward, arms folded defensively across his chest. He could feel Shiro and Allura’s eyes glued to his back, warily following his movements, a brand-new finality to them.

“Tell us where Keith is.” he demanded, voice rough with barely concealed anger.

Lotor lifted an eyebrow, narrowing his eyes at Lance, considering.

A flicker of eyelids.

An intake of breath.

Time ticked by and Lance exhaled a deep sigh, certain he wouldn’t get an answer. But then —

“He’s being held captive in Haggar’s ship, hidden somewhere in the fourth quadrant of a nearby galaxy.”

Lance blinked in surprise, not really expecting Lotor to give in so easily. The shock tasted bitter on his tongue as he swallowed, throat achingly dry. His voice was raised a couple octaves as he spoke again, raw desperation falling from his mouth.

“Then give us the coordinates! We can’t waste any more time!”

“It’s not that easy, paladin. Haggar put a cloaking spell around it. You won’t be able to find it, unless you know what you’re looking for. And I’m the only one who knows how to get there.” Lotor said, effectively crushing Lance’s heart under the sole of his boot. Lance could practically hear as it broke to pieces, a cracking sound piercing his ears. “The truth is, you _need_ me if you want the black paladin back. And, if I were you, I’d hurry.”

Lance frowned, blood freezing in his veins, blown by the cold breeze of Lotor’s words.

“Wh — What are you _saying_?”

“There’s no way of knowing how long Haggar will remain stationed there. She could move out at any moment, and when she does, none of us will be able to find her ever again.” Lotor said, a fatal, dooming quality to his tone.

“Lotor, what are you not telling us? What is Haggar planning?”

Lotor’s eyes fell on Allura, drinking in the melodic sound of her voice, breathing in her scent, drowning in her sight. There was a softness swirling in those blue-yellow eyes that Lance hadn’t noticed there before, like the thin, calm surface of a lake. It almost felt real. _Almost._

“She goes by Empress Honerva nowadays.” he corrected her in a low voice. “Before we fled her ship, Acxa managed to overhear her plans. She wants to build a new Altea, where she’ll rule absolute. And, then, she plans on building an empire to herself.”

“A new Altea? But… _How_?” Allura exhaled sharply.

“She already has the trust of the Alteans from the colony.” Lotor moved his shoulders a fraction, a distant memory of a shrug. “All she needs is a suitable planet to settle down.”

“But that’s impossible. Keith said there was no one else left at the colony, that everyone was —”

“Gone?” Lotor asked and there was something undeniably cruel about the way he spoke, a viciousness lacing every roll of his tongue, dripping with each syllable. “I’m not entirely sure how she managed to do that, but somehow she got them to pledge their loyalty to her, as the rightful ruler of the new Altea.”

A tiny gasp escaped Allura’s lips, her eyes brimming with the watery glint of tears. Shiro was at her side, sending her a concerned glance, hand fluctuating above her shoulder, unsure what to do with it. Her Altean markings, once blazing, were now lifeless and dull. Fragile, broken things.

“Ruler of Altea?” she whispered, blinking away the moisture gathering at the corner of her eyes.

“Uncuff me, Allura.” Lotor echoed his words from before. An edge to his voice, a spark in his eyes. “I’ll take you there and we’ll fight together to regain what’s rightfully yours.”

“How could I trust you, Lotor? After everything…” Allura trailed off, shaking her head and closing her eyes.

“Trust demands trust.”

It was all he said before falling silent once again.

Lance watched as their eyes met halfway across the room. An understanding passed between them, a glance filled with the sound of words left unspoken, hurt and betrayal and regret.

And _love_.

Lance knew that look.

It was celestial bodies orbiting around each other, the push and pull of gravity and something else, something _more_. Two stars colliding, sprung from the same spark, defying the distance between planets, challenging time and space altogether.

It was rosy cheeks under the glow of purple lights, the humming of a ship filling the empty spaces. Heavy breathing and eyelids fluttering shut, shadows dancing on flushed skin. A touch of lips, brief and chaste.

It was Lance’s heart breaking and then coming back together.

He knew, before the word even left Allura’s mouth, what she was going to say. Somehow, he knew.

“Shiro,” she called, never taking her eyes away from Lotor. “Uncuff him.”

“Allura —”

“Please, do as I say.”

“Allura, what are you —” Lance started, but promptly closed his mouth as the cool determination in Allura’s eyes pinned him to the floor, ice spikes nailing his feet to the ground.

“I know what I’m doing, Lance.” she said, covering his hand with hers. Lance swallowed, absorbing some of the heat coming from the tips of her fingers. “Please, I can do this. I need you to trust me.”

Lance was a butterfly that had had his wings punctured, unable to fly away. The lilac flecks in Allura’s eyes formed patterns in his mind, undiscernible at first, but quickly taking form. His chest deflated in resignation, defeat weighting down on his shoulders. This was Allura. A princess from a faraway planet. A warrior. A girl who had once owned half of his heart. Allura, who was strong and bright. Allura, with delicate fingers and gentle eyes. Allura, who could handle something as fragile as the universe’s lifeforce on the palms of her hands without ever breaking.

“Okay.” he murmured, barely audible. Only for her.

Allura smiled. Something almost graceful about the way her lips curled, slowly and ever so slightly. She mouthed a quiet thank you and pressed down on their intertwined fingers before gingerly letting go.

“Shiro.” she turned to him, a silent order written in her eyes.

He sighed in defeat, moving across the room to release Lotor from his restraints. Once free, he laid his hands over the table, rubbing at the sore, purple skin of his wrists. Shiro stepped back, never once taking his eyes away from Lotor, body stiff with accumulated tension.

Lotor flicked his eyes towards the center of the room, where Allura stood. He leaned back against the chair, chin lifted a fraction higher. His movements were calm and collected, a distinct elegance imbued in each of his limbs, from the tip of his fingers to the corners of his eyes.

“Leave us.” Allura said, unmoving.

Lance and Shiro exchanged a careful glance before doing as they were told, leaving Allura with nothing but the sound of the door swooshing closed.

“What are you doing? Have you lost your minds?” Pidge furiously yelled at them.

They were like a pocket-sized hurricane, limbs flailing in wide arcs, exasperation plaguing their voice as they closed their hands into fists, stomping all the way to where Lance and Shiro stood, just outside the room. Coran followed close behind, face drawn taut in worrisome lines.

“Pidge, wait…” Hunk called, struggling to catch up with their furious rampant.

“It was Allura’s orders.” Shiro said simply. Pidge scowled back at him, clearly left unsatisfied with his response.

“I don’t care, Shiro! You couldn’t have left her in there, alone with him!”

“Pidge, it’s Allura. She knows what she’s doing.” Hunk intervened, but Pidge refused to listen.

“You guys can’t be serious!” they yelled, snapping their head at Lance, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet during Pidge’s heated protests. He felt his jaw clench under the scrutiny of their gaze. “Lance, you have nothing to say about that? It’s Allura we’re talking about.”

“What do you expected us to do, Pidge?” Lance retorted, voice on the verge of breaking. He gritted his teeth, panting hard. He took a deep breath, exhaling slow. “Allura can make her own decisions. She doesn’t need a knight in shining armor, she can take care of herself.”

“But —”

“Pidge,” Shiro kneeled down before them, meeting their eyes behind the barrier of thick lenses. “If Lotor tries anything, we’ll be there in a heartbeat. We’re not gonna let anything happen to Allura, okay? But I think she needed some time alone with him. To get closure.”

Pidge hesitated, but ended up nodding, an angry pout still plastered on their lips.

Lance glimpsed through the glass of the interrogation room, spotting Allura’s silvery, white hair hunched in a bun on top of her head. Behind her, patches of purple skin filled the edges of his vision; a soft, artificial breeze carried their voices through the wall in the form of barely audible whispers.

 _Closure_ , the word echoed inside his head. He thought he might need that too.

He stood there for a moment, a part of him feeling naked and vulnerable. An exposed wire, electricity running through his veins, prickling at his fingers, making them restless as they pulled at the seams of his uniform. And there was the emptiness. The feeling of sinking into the deep end, not knowing how to swim back to the surface, floating further away.

Lance breathed in and imagined himself leaving all his air behind, lungs screaming in starvation, throat heaving dry.

“Lance?”

Lance stopped mid-step, lost in the haze inside his head, having inhaled the smoke swirling inside his chest. He couldn’t remember leaving, couldn’t recall the moment his body no longer rested in inertia, driven by some invisible force.

Slowly, he craned his head around, meeting the concerned look in Hunk’s brown eyes, framed under a pair of thick brows.

“Is everything okay, man?” Hunk asked, half whispering the words in his ear.

Lance nodded, absently.

“Yeah, I just…” he licked his bottom lip, only then noticing the tremors running underneath his tongue. “I just need some air.”

Hunk stared back, quietly. Lance wasn’t sure he had believed him, but, for once, he was telling the truth. He needed air. Clean air. He couldn’t breathe in there. His throat was closing in, his lungs shrinking, the walls were caving in all around him.

And he _couldn’t breathe_.

Hunk said nothing as he watched the doors sliding shut after Lance.

Lance’s body moved of its own accord, feet dragging him outside, through endless corridors and sharp corners he only barely noticed as he slithered by. Not for the first time, Lance caught himself thinking about Keith, regretting all the moments wasted, all the time lost, all the things that were never spoken and never heard.

He thought of them, retreating each to their respective little worlds — be it in the Garrison or in the Castle of Lions —, avoiding contact and yet starving for touch. He thought of raven feathered hair and a pale face. Starlight reflected upon indigo painted skies.

He thought about Keith and how he would likely never see him again. How he wished he could rewind time just so he could stargaze into those eyes one more time.

It _hurt_.

It has been days and it still hurt all the same.

Not even the peaceful quietness of twilight could pacify the voices in his head. There was no heat coming out of his mouth, no fire to thaw the frozen heart inside his chest, growing colder, colder, colder.

Hearing footsteps, Lance turned, squinting his eyes at the dimly illuminated entrance. From the shadows emerged Romelle, hair cascading down her shoulders like a curtain of fiery gold under the dying rays of sunlight.

“Romelle?”

“Lance, there you are.” she said, an unfamiliar cadence sipping through her voice.

“Did they sent you here to get me back?”

A heartbeat later, Romelle stepped away from the dark, bathing herself in orange and pink hues, ignoring Lance’s question as she _tsked_ and shook her head.

Something was wrong. The atmosphere changed with each step Romelle took towards him, inching closer. Something about her was _off_ , in the way she walked, the way she talked, the way she would simply look at him, with a silent promise written in those lips.

“I don’t follow their orders, Lance.” she said.

Lance felt like prey, caught under the sharpness of those canines exposed. He gulped, taking a step back. His hand fell on his waist, fingers gripping the hilt of Keith’s blade, still resting there.

“Then whose orders _do_ you follow?”

Romelle tilted her head to the side, a predatory smile hanging dangerously from her lips. An ugly, cruel thing.

Lance’s breath caught in his throat.

Before he could unsheathe the knife, she had pinned him by the shoulders, sending them both scattering off to the floor with the force of impact, a vicious snarl passing through her lips. Lance’s chest heaved, aching for air as Romelle’s hands closed around his throat, digging her fingers deeper, deeper, deeper until he saw stars flickering in the blue sky of his eyes.


	9. part ix - how long before you hurt for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you talking about?” Lance erupted, hitting the glass with a closed fist, the impact hard enough to rattle the thick surface.  
> It was Acxa’s turn to frown at him, confusion painting the planes of her face.  
> “How do you not know? How did you not see?” she retorted, sounding as exasperated as Lance felt.  
> “See what?” he cried out, throat burning as if his insides were on fire.  
> Acxa’s hand came to rest against the glass, craving touch but meeting the cold, hard surface of her prison wall instead. There was a spark to her eyes, the shine of a thousand stars shimmering against their dark expanse.  
> “Lance, I thought you knew.”  
> “Knew what?” Acxa was staring blankly at him. Lance shook his head. Something was not right, something was — “You’re not making any sense, Acxa.”  
> She released a heavy sigh, as if she’d been carrying a terrible burden on her shoulders.  
> “Keith is in love with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! Thanks again for all the kudos and comments this story has received and sorry for the late update, but you know life happened. The title for this chapter comes from SYML's song 'Hurt for me'. This song fits this fic so perfectly I just had to. I hope you enjoy this chapter because this is the calm before the storm...

**part ix**

**how long before you hurt for me**

* * *

 

_Black out_  
The night before inside of my mouth  
Too much, it's what I like to do now  
My mind explodes and I can't make it out  
I'm falling down

* * *

 

Lance was choking, desperately gasping for air that never reached his lungs, barricaded behind Romelle’s fingers as they wrapped tighter around his throat. Until it hurt. Until dark, bronze skin became an ugly shade of purple and blue instead. Until the agonized screams of his lungs were the only sound ringing in his ears.

His eyes bulged from their sockets as he stared back at Romelle, silently begging for some kind of mercy. But it was as if there was an invisible wall erected between their bodies, tall and thick, making it impossible for Romelle to hear his desperate pleas. She was killing him, slowly, leisurely.

Lance thought of all the times he had almost died, fighting a war that wasn’t his, putting the lives of strangers before his own. So carelessly, so selflessly. He thought of the scar painting his back in sharp, wide brushes. A sunburst of white tissue, the echo of an explosion ringing inside his head, the press of a solid chest and warm arms underneath his body. He thought of the countless other scars marring his arms, ribs, legs and shoulder blades. Battle scars, painfully won.

But no pain could ever compare to the one he could feel in that moment, trapped under Romelle’s body, looking into those familiar eyes and seeing _nothing_.

“Empress Honerva sends her regards.” she hissed. Lance clawed at her hands, watching as a smile overtook half of her face, lifeless eyes staring down at him. “You’re weak. All of you are _weak_. And, yet, you call yourselves defenders of the universe. It’s pathetic.”

“Romelle?” Lance gritted out, eyes widening, face reddening. “Romelle, s — stop.”

“Tell me, what gave it away?”

“W — What?”

She dug her fingers a fraction deeper, smile growing in her lips as a suffocated noise escaped from the back of Lance’s throat. His hands had started to tremble, assaulted by terrible tremors. He could barely feel as his nails sank into Romelle’s skin, drawing thin rivulets of blood.

“You could sense something was off. I know it, I could see it in your eyes.” Romelle said, a curtain of gold-yellow hair covering both of them as she tilted her head slightly to the side. “I wanna know what gave it away.”

Lance blinked, eyes awfully dry, and the pressure around his neck loosened. It was but a fleeting moment, no more than a flicker of eyelids, but enough for him to _breathe_ , a long and sharp inhale.

“I — I don’t know.” Lance choked on his own breath, unused to the rush of air coming in and out down his throat. “Romelle, why are you doing this?”

“Because,” she began, grazing the sides of his neck with the tip of her nails, a playful grin dancing on her lips. Lance swallowed thickly. “You have the potential to ruin everything. You almost did it before, with the former black paladin. It’s deeply unsettling, how attuned you are to your instincts.”

A tiny gasp crawled its way out of Lance’s mouth, the furrowed lines between his brows smoothing as realization slowly dawned on him.

“Besides, there’s someone else watching. Smile for him, Lance. He needs to _see_.” Romelle whispered the words conspiratorially, lips brushing against his earlobe. Her breath was warm, but it left a cold trail on his skin. “Do you miss him terribly, Lance? Your black paladin?”

_Keith?_

In his chest, his heart lost precious momentum, skipping a beat. Lance was startled into motion, hand falling to the blade secured on his belt. He took advantage of Romelle’s momentary distraction, pulling the blade free and sending it flying in a wide arc, sharp tip connecting against the soft tissue of Romelle’s skin, tearing through the fabric of her uniform.

She cried out in pain, staggering backwards as a hand moved to cover the gash ripping her side open. Blood slid between her fingers, a rich scarlet color.

Lance held the blade tight in his fist, unwilling to let go. He watched with wide eyes as a small pool of blood surrounded Romelle’s body, sprawled across the floor, like spilt syrup. He inhaled sharply, the metallic tang of blood causing his jaw to clench.

All of Lance’s senses were smothered under the frantic pounding of his heart and he could hardly believe as the air around him started to sizzle and bend, his eyes catching a glimpse of a spark before a white flare of light exploded behind his eyelids.

With tentative care, Lance dared to flutter his eyes open. He blinked a couple more times, adjusting to the sudden clarity. And _there_ stood Kosmo, in all of his alien glory. The coat of fur on his back stood on end, tail hanging utterly still as he snarled to a grumbling Romelle, clawing her back to the ground.

Lance released a strangled breath, panting from the strain his lungs had sustained as the surge of adrenaline he had received earlier began to leave his system.

“Kosmo?” he whispered, a puff of air. “What are you —”

There was a sonorous _click_ and then the sound of the entrance doors sliding open. A cacophony of footsteps, all hurried and in disarray, followed suit.

“Lance?” Allura rushed to his side, kneeling before him and taking his face in her hands. Blue eyes searched for damage, but found nothing. Fingers brushed the dark marks around his neck, a purple necklace of digits. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Lance could barely spare her a glance, still entranced by the figure of Romelle, laying still on the hard floor, pinned down under Kosmo’s heavy paws. Her words resonated deep inside his head, going back and forth, like a ping-pong ball.

_He needs to see._

Could she have meant Keith? Was he somehow able to see them, light-years away? Was Haggar forcing him to watch as Romelle choked him nearly to death?

Lance caught himself shaking his head, belatedly answering Allura’s question. His hands moved towards his throbbing neck, throat sore from having Romelle’s fingers digging deeper and deeper with each passing second.

“What happened here? Why is Kosmo angry at Romelle?” came a deep voice. _Hunk_ , Lance recognized, still unable to move his eyes from the fallen Altean. There was a sharp intake of breath and then, “And why is she bleeding?”

“Lance, what did you do?” Pidge asked, coming to a halt beside Hunk at the sight of blood.

Romelle didn’t say anything, unnaturally silent. Lance wondered about the open gash on her ribs, all the blood she had lost. Was she still conscious? He couldn’t see her eyes with Kosmo hovering above her, covering most of her face.

“R — Romelle…” he tried, voice raspy and brittle. He swallowed, wincing from the pain it sparked. “She tried to — To kill me.”

There was a collective pause as they all took in the scene painted before them. Lance sprawled on the ground, hand clamped around his own throat as he struggled to find his voice. Romelle, lying on the floor with a knife wound, the white of her uniform tainted a dark shade of red. And Kosmo on top of her, Lance’s dutiful protector ever since Keith’s disappearance, snarling and baring his teeth at her as if she was the enemy.

“What?” Hunk exhaled, a hint of exasperation sipping through his tone. “But it’s Romelle, she wouldn’t…”

Next to Lance, Allura sighed. He could feel the warmth of her breath touching the side of his neck, soft and featherlight. His entire body shivered at the ghostly contact.

“We’ll discuss this later, after they’re both taken care of.” she said, moving to stand, hand still curled around Lance’s upper arm as she lifted him up alongside her. “Hunk, Coran, could you please take Romelle to the medical ward?”

They nodded after a brief moment of hesitation, making their way towards Kosmo and Romelle with wary steps. Orbiting around the cosmic wolf like lost satellites, they looked unsure about what to do next. Hands hovered in the air, looks were exchanged.

“Lance, could you, um, maybe tell Kosmo to get off of her?” Hunk stammered, gulping loudly.

Lance blinked at the yellow paladin, then turned his eyes to the cosmic wolf standing a few feet below. He opened his mouth to speak, but his vocal chords were pulled painfully at the attempt. He put two of his fingers between his lips instead, a loud, high-pitched whistle escaping past them.

Kosmo turned his head around, gold-rimmed eyes landing on Lance. He tilted his head to the side in confusion, wolfish ears flickering as seconds ticked by in silence. And, then, he seemed to understand, climbing down from Romelle’s body in a flare of light before obediently reappearing at Lance’s feet.

Low grumbles and soft cries reached Lance’s ears. Romelle had her eyes open, he noticed, but only barely. Eyelids fluttered blearily, shadows dancing on her cheekbones.

Lance smiled down at Kosmo, giving a gentle caress between his ears. A satisfied noise echoed from the wolf’s throat before he disappeared again.

“Thanks, buddy.” Hunk said, moving to curl a hand around one of Romelle’s shoulders. Coran was quick to mirror his movements on her other side.

Romelle released a weak protest as she was lifted from the floor, carried on unstable legs towards the Garrison’s doors, droplets of blood trailing behind her every step.

Allura and Pidge lagged behind, flanking Lance on both sides, eyes attentive as they studied every line of his face, every bruise on his neck, every tear on his uniform. Pidge was the first to speak, voice gruff, arms folded before their chest as they peered at him from behind thick lenses.

“Are you okay, Lance?”

Lance nodded, resting a hand on Pidge’s shoulder and giving it a small squeeze.

“I’m fine, Pidge. It takes a lot more to put someone like me down.” he said with a tiny curl of his lips, sounding husky and alien to his own ears.

Pidge narrowed their eyes at him, squinting at his choice of words.

“Lance, you were literally _on_ the floor when we got here.” they said, an intent look in their eyes. “Don’t you remember that? Did you hit your head when you fell?”

“It’s a manner of speech, Pidge.” Lance snorted, rolling his eyes dramatically. “You don’t have to take everything I say so literally. God, you sound just like —”

_Keith_ , he wanted to say, but the name got stuck in his throat. He thought about Romelle’s words and he felt as if he was the one with a knife wound, an invisible blade that had pierced him between his ribs, puncturing his lungs. He ached with every breath, heart beating a staccato tune in his ears.

Silence lingered where words were left unspoken, and Lance could feel the weight of a pair of eyes studying him carefully, waiting for something, for _more_. But there was nothing left.

“Come, we should take you to the infirmary. You need to rest.” Allura said, but Lance pulled his arm free from her grip, shaking his head adamantly.

Allura frowned back at him and Lance knew she could see the hard lines of his shoulders, his clenched fists and furrowed brows. He could almost taste the question weighting on the tip of her tongue.

“No, I —” Lance muttered, eyes closed and head still shaking over his shoulders. “I’m fine. Romelle. Romelle said — She said he was watching.”

Allura had a confused expression on her face, exchanging a careful glance with Pidge. Neither of them said anything as Lance rambled on, holding fistfuls of hair between his fingers, breathing raggedly. He could feel himself slipping further away from the path that led to control, straying towards hysteria.

A chuckle escaped past his lips, a corrupted sound that did not belong to him. Lance could feel his steps faltering, balance wavering as he tip-toed an imaginary tightrope. In the back of his head a voice whispered, telling him to _let go_. To let it all go.

“Who was watching, Lance?” Allura asked softly.

“Keith.” he breathed out, struggling to form the words, thoughts still reeling. “She said Keith was watching. She said — She asked me if I missed him. I — How is that possible? How could he be seeing this?” Lance pulled harder at the roots of his hair, eyes boring into Allura’s, pleading for answers. “I don’t understand, Allura. I don’t —”

Allura pressed both hands on Lance’s face, touching the slope of his cheeks with the pad of her thumbs, forcing his eyes to meet hers. Her touch was iron-born, anchoring his feet to the ground as waves of anxiousness coursed through his body, furious and unrelenting. He stayed grounded, unmoving but for the gentle undulations of his chest as he breathed in and out. Again and again.

Lance blinked back at her, remembering just how strong Allura really was; built on lean, toned muscles and fueled on pure Altean strength.

“Lance, breathe.” she said, inhaling deeply before releasing it through her lips. Slowly, almost sheepishly, Lance mirrored her action. In and out. “You need to breathe, okay? Calm down. You can tell us what happened later, we have time.”

Except they didn’t, not really. Time was but tiny grains of sand, slipping between his fingers, blown away by a strong wind. And with it, their chance to get to Keith. To get him back and safe. To get him _home_.

Lance looked into the cerulean blue of Allura’s eyes, so unlike his and yet so familiar. Lance sighed, wavering under her touch, eyes closing as tension bled from his shoulders and jaw. Behind long lashes, Lance caught sight of Allura, unflinching as he allowed his head to lean forward, colliding against hers.

Another trembling breath, another beat of eyelashes. And, then, Allura’s voice, a feathery touch.

“Are you feeling better now?” she asked, eyes locked into his.

“Yeah.” Lance exhaled, chest deflating.

“Good. So, tell me. What happened? You said Romelle mentioned Keith?”

Lance could feel his entire face darkening as a cloud descended upon him. The storm had found them, at last.

“Romelle attacked me. She just… Jumped on me and started to —” Lance trailed off, fingers brushing his neck absent-mindedly. Allura followed his movements with her eyes. Next to them, Pidge let out a strangled noise. “And then she said something about Keith, that he could see that she was doing to me. That he was _watching_.”

Allura’s eyebrows furrowed together, puzzled. Her entire face was contorted into a frown.

“She attacked you.” she echoed his words, deep in thought. “Are you sure she was under Haggar’s influence?”

Lance sighed, giving her a tired nod of his head.

“She called her empress.” he said, wrinkling his nose at the memory.

From the corner of his eyes, Lance caught restless movement. His eyes landed on Allura’s white knuckles as she curled her hands into fists. She took a step back, lips pursed in a thin line.

“How could we have missed this? How did we not see…” she muttered, mostly to herself.

Lance kept his eyes on her as she crossed her arms, nails digging into the sleeves of her uniform. He reached out, touching her on the shoulder. He nearly stumbled backwards at the sheer intensity of her look, but somehow managed to remain standing on his own two feet.

“Hey, you shouldn’t blame yourself, Allura. It was impossible to know.” he said, trying to sound reassuring. But Allura seemed unconvinced, impossible to placate.

“It’s just… I can’t help but feel like I’ve been making all the wrong choices.” she replied, head tilted down, avoiding Lance’s gaze. “First, I chose to trust Lotor and look where that got us. Then, with the Altean pilot, Keith’s disappearance, and now —”

“ _Now_ we’re gonna fix it.” Pidge cut in, materializing between them and looking from Lance to Allura. “If what Lotor said is true and Haggar, or Honerva, or whatever she’s calling herself these days, is really mind-controlling Alteans then this means she could have done the same thing to Romelle. All we need to do is get that witch out of her head.”

“Yeah, but how do we do that?” Lance asked, frowning.

Pidge shrugged, shaking their head.

“I haven’t really thought about that part yet.” they said slowly, after careful consideration. “I don’t even know if it’s something that can be done. I mean, this is not science. This is —”

“Magic.” Allura murmured in a breathy voice, eyes growing on her face, bluer than any other color, pupils no more than tiny, dark dots in the middle of the sky. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I think we need to speak to Lotor. He knows more about this than any of us.”

Lance grunted, throwing his hands in the air. He could feel the pain and the exhaustion giving way to something darker, dangerous. His mind was plagued with thoughts of violence, his body thrumming in waves of aggression. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so frustrated as he felt then, so unbelievably lost.

“There are so many questions. I just want answers. I want someone to tell me what the hell is going on.” Lance blurted out. There was an edge to his voice, sound scratching at the back of his throat.

Allura turned her head to face him, hand gently covering his and applying a small pressure around his knuckles. Lance could feel some of the tension dissipating from his body, but that creature inside scratched just below the surface, simmering with barely contained anger. He wondered if that’s what Keith felt like all of the time, constantly angry at the world and at the people in it, at the unfairness of it all. Lance thought, perhaps, he understood him a little better now.

“Lotor might have the answers we’re looking for.” _That you’re looking for,_ Lance could almost hear Allura’s voice in his head. She sounded so certain, a reliable presence pulling him back to solid ground, taming the beast clawing at his ribs. “I know I’m asking a lot of you. Especially of you, Lance. But Lotor might be our best chance to get answers.”

Lance felt resignation weighting heavily on his limbs, shoulders slumping forward as he absorbed the meaning of Allura’s words. Every cell in his body screamed in protest at the thought of asking Lotor — of all people — for help, a thousand warning signs lighting up inside his head, blaring red and loud. But what other choice did they have? Though Lance raged with the urge to refute Allura, he knew she was right. Lotor was their best chance of knowing how to reverse Haggar’s dark druid magic. Their _only_ chance.

“Where is he?” Lance asked, words drowned under a defeated sigh.

“Still in the interrogation room. Shiro stayed behind to keep an eye on him.” Allura replied, hand still wrapped around his. Lance bathed in her warmth, feeling altogether comfortable and safe. “When neither you or Romelle came back right away, Hunk thought something could have happened, so we all went looking.”

Lance blinked away the surprise in the wake of Allura’s confession, hoping she had missed it somehow. But if the glint in her eyes was anything to go by then he knew his prayers were left unanswered.

“You did?” he caught himself asking, trying to mask the disbelief from his tone.

“Of course, Lance. You matter to this team, to all of us.” Allura said, sending a kind smile his way, eyes shining with something painfully fond in them.

“You weren’t answering your comms. We started to get worried about you.” Pidge added after a beat of silence, barely audible.

When Lance looked at them, he felt his chest constrict, ribs pressing tight on his heart and lungs. They looked so _young_. Younger than fourteen. Too young to be fighting an intergalactic war, risking their life in countless missions.

Lance let out a choked noise, breath leaving his mouth in waves. Despite the burning in his eyes, where tears threatened to fall, he opened a smile, somewhat true and warm. It almost felt familiar, like a memory from another life.

“Aw, Pidge, I always knew that deep down you cared about me!” he cooed, burying his fingers in Pidge’s hair and playfully messing with the strands. The gesture earned him an irritated groan in response, but it lacked its usual bitterness.

“Get off of me, Lance!” Pidge grumbled, batting his hands away from their now disheveled hair, desperately trying to smooth the strands sticking out in odd angles. “What have you done to my hair? God, that’s why you can’t have nice things.”

Lance’s lips trembled with the urge to laugh, but he managed a smile instead. His eyes felt hot with unshed tears, smothered under the palm of his hands. Pidge nudged his side, the corners of their lips curling upwards. Lance exhaled, no longer feeling as if his chest had been constricted. If anything, he almost felt like his ribs were expanding, creating more space to shelter all the feelings coursing unbidden through his body. It was _nice_ , he thought.

Allura cleared her throat, fighting against a smile as it tried to crawl its way past her lips. Her eyes flickered from Lance to Pidge, a clear blue sky dotted with lilac clouds.

“As much as I hate to interrupt this moment, we should go. The sooner we talk to Lotor, the better.”

The walk back to the interrogation room was quiet. Lance’s ears were plagued with the sound of their footsteps. Thoughts of Keith and Romelle were drowned under the suffocating loud noises ringing inside his head, sinking deeper with each stride they took, each corner they turned.

But as the doors whooshed closed behind them, tuning out the noise and the light from the world outside, Lance was once again assaulted by those same old questions.

_Where was Keith?_

_What was being done to him?_

_Would he ever see him again?_

He prayed to whatever entity who would listen, begging for answers, wishing for Allura to be right. Hoping, for once, his trust wasn’t misguided.

The room was empty but for Shiro, a sturdy figure at the center, with his arms crossed and brows furrowed, staring unblinking at Lotor on the other side of the glass. His eyes went wide with something that strongly resembled relief and then he was moving forward, uncurling his arms, brows softening with each stride.

“Where have you been? Why did none of you answer your comms?” he asked, forgoing all the many years of training he had gone through at the Garrison. His eyes landed on Lance, on the purple marks around his throat, and he came to a startled halt. “Lance, what happened?”

Lance fought against the impulse to bring his hands to cover his neck. He swallowed, grimacing at the sudden discomfort.

“We believe Romelle might be working under Haggar’s command.” Allura said, sparing Lance the effort. He sent her a quiet thank you.

Shiro’s mouth hung open, unhinged in the wake of Allura’s words. His eyes landed on Lance once again, only long enough to catch a nod sent his way, and then his voice returned to him.

“How is that possible?” he asked, at a more stable tone.

Allura shook her head, lowering her eyes as a sigh escaped her lips. Lance hated to see her like that, with hope gone from her eyes, all light extinguished.

“We don’t know yet. Hunk and Coran took her to the medical ward. We’ll be able to question her later, when she’s recovered from her wounds.”

Lance noticed the way Shiro’s brows lifted a fraction higher, taking another glimpse at the marks around his throat before looking away. He could almost see the cogs turning inside Shiro’s head, engines working to draw the connection between Romelle’s wounds and the ghostly fingers imprinted on Lance’s skin. He chose to remain quiet, giving Allura nothing but a firm nod of his head. It was enough for now, though his eyes gleamed with the promise of more to come. _Later_ , they seemed to say, staring intently at Lance.

“We’re here because we need to speak to Lotor. He’s our closest connection to Haggar and he might know something about this.” Allura concluded, waiting for the confusion clouding Shiro’s face to clear.

“He’s still uncuffed.” Shiro said dryly, eyeing Allura with a new-found wariness. “Be careful in there, princess. Even if he has the answers you’re looking for, he’s not to be trusted.”

Next to Allura, Lance couldn’t help but notice the way her throat bobbed up and down, hearing the soft noises she made as she swallowed. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Allura nervous, but what other explanation was there for her curled fists and clenched jaw? He was overwhelmed with the impulse to reach for her hand, to soothe the white of her knuckles until they returned to their natural color. His hands hovered in the space between their bodies, palm turned down, fingers splayed, already halfway towards her when she moved, taking a step forward.

“Trust demands trust, Shiro.” she said as she passed him, echoing Lotor’s words.

Lance watched as she crossed the doors, reappearing behind that small plane of glass. He caught a glimpse of Lotor raising from his chair. Slowly, deliberately. His eyes seemed glued to Allura, unable to look anywhere else. Something crossed his features, disappearing in a bat of lashes, and whatever it was it seemed to resonate deep within Lance, leaving his chest with a phantom sting. He pressed a scarred palm flat against his chest, trying to chase that strange feeling away.

“Aren’t you going in with her?” Shiro asked, closing the distance between them. Lance hadn’t seen him move.

His hand fell to his side, ears burning at being caught off guard.

“I — No. I think it’s best if they talk alone.” Lance muttered under his breath, looking at the framed image of Allura. All he could see was her back. A crown of white hair and slim, strong shoulders hidden underneath that uniform.

And Lotor’s smile.

He couldn’t stop smiling at her, and yet, Lance doubted Allura had shared anything that might be considered funny.

“But this concerns you too, doesn’t it?” Shiro asked, sending a pointed look at his neck. Lance flinched slightly under the scrutiny of that gaze. “I’m guessing this was Romelle’s handiwork.”

There was a snort, a strange hybrid between a laugh and a cough. Lance stared at Pidge, standing silently at his side, smiling wickedly at Shiro.

“Oh, you should have seen what Lance did to her. There was so much blood…” they trailed off, purposefully ignoring how Shiro’s eyes widened at that small piece of information. Instead, they turned to Lance. “Which reminds me, how did you even do that? Last time I checked, your bayard turned into a gun, not a knife.”

Lance’s hand curled protectively around Keith’s blade, a wave of relief sipping through his bones at the now familiar weight resting on his hip. Pidge followed his movements like a hawk tracking down its prey, releasing a tiny gasp once their eyes caught sight of the blade, the unmistakable purple glint of luxite steel, the alien markings engraved around the hilt.

“Is that Keith’s knife?” Pidge asked, lunging forward. Instinctively, Lance stepped back, angling his body so Pidge couldn’t reach for it. “What are you doing with it? Lance, when did Keith give it to you?”

“He — He didn’t. Krolia did.” he mumbled, barely loud enough for them to hear.

Pidge frowned.

“Krolia? Why would she —”

“Pidge, you can ask Lance about it later. We have more pressing matters to attend to.” Shiro cut in, hard enough to draw Pidge to a halt. “Contact Hunk, mare sure they come back here once Romelle is settled in the infirmary. We need everyone together.”

As Pidge scurried away to a far corner of the room, pulling out the communication device from their pocket, Lance met Shiro’s eyes, ocean waves breaking against walls made of reinforced steel. He pressed his lips together, edges curling upwards into a weak smile. Shiro mirrored the action, warm pools of silver dancing around dark pupils.

“Thanks for that.” Lance whispered, careful so Pidge wouldn’t hear it.

“You don’t need to thank me, Lance. I could see you were uncomfortable with Pidge’s questions.” he said. There was a pause and then, “Can I ask you something?”

Lance shrugged.

“Um, yeah, I guess.”

“Did something happen between you, Pidge and Hunk?” Shiro asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. Lance stiffened at Shiro’s words, sending Pidge a furtive glance over his shoulder, still deep in conversation with Hunk at the other end of the line.

“No, nothing happened.” Lance said at last, sounding brittle and unstable even to his own ears.

“Then why did Hunk and Pidge come to me the other day wondering if I knew what was going on with you?” Shiro countered, crossing his arms as his gaze bored into Lance’s eyes, brushing at the seams of his very soul. “I thought you guys told each other everything, that there were no secrets.”

“We did. We _do._ ” Lance said through gritted teeth, avoiding Shiro’s glare and staring at the back of Allura’s head instead, a cloud of white hair glistening behind the glass.

“They don’t know about Keith, do they?”

Shiro’s voice was impossibly soft, a gentle caress on Lance’s tense shoulders. And when Lance looked up, meeting the eyes of his childhood idol, his captain, his _friend_ , he felt something slowly coming undone inside him; the tight pull in his stomach slowly uncoiling.

“What about Keith?” Lance retorted.

“Lance, I think we’re past the denial phase.” Shiro said, unimpressed. Lance sighed in defeat. Shiro knew him too well by now, pretending otherwise was pointless. “Why didn’t you tell them you like Keith?”

“I guess I could’ve told Hunk when we were still at the Garrison, when he asked me why I was always staring at Keith during classes. But I just — I just couldn’t. And then I made up that whole rivalry thing. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.” Lance confessed, bracing himself as if he would become smaller that way, folding within himself like a flower during night time, away from the sunlight. “Then we found Blue and we were thrown in the middle of an intergalactic war. Everything got so out of control. I had kept this secret for so long I couldn’t bring myself to tell them the truth. It was easier to pretend I hated Keith. I thought I would get over him eventually. And, for a moment there, I thought I did.”

“But you didn’t.” Shiro spoke softly and there was something almost fond in the way he was looking down at Lance.

“I didn’t.”

A bittersweet smile spread across his lips, sharp and painful. He wanted to laugh at his terrible timing and even worse luck, but his voice got stuck in his throat, caught between the thorns and knots blossoming around his vocal chords.

“You should tell them, Lance. They’re your friends and they’re clearly worried about you.” Shiro said and the effect was immediate, smile dissolving from his lips.

“I think they already know. They found me on the roof the other day and I — I think they know.” Lance stammered, struggling to push the words out as they scratched and clawed at the walls of his throat.

Lance hadn’t said anything that night at the roof. He just wept. The tears kept on falling and his shoulders kept on trembling. On and on. He didn’t say anything but he could still remember the look on Hunk’s face, mirrored on Pidge’s. It wasn’t pity. It was something far worse. Understanding. A moment of clarity, a lightning strike.

Lance waited for either of them to say something, to acknowledge the heart wrenching truth he had kept buried in the confines of his chest, locked and safe. But the confrontation never came. There was only silence and the sound of his ugly crying and ragged breathing.

Hunk had walked him to his room that night. An equally silent Pidge following close behind. The doors had whooshed open and still they said nothing. When Lance turned around, he saw the smile hanging from Hunk’s lips, small and reassuring. He felt Pidge’s hand around his, applying the smallest pressure against his knuckles.

And then the door closed and they were gone.

Lance suspected they already knew why he had been acting strange since Keith’s disappearance. But they never really _talked_ about it. Unspoken words loomed in the air around them, waiting to take form and become a solid weight in his mouth. Perhaps Shiro was right. Perhaps he should —

“ _Allura_? Allura, what are you doing?”

Pidge’s exasperated screams reached Lance’s ears and his body answered to the prospect of a threat, having grown used to the perils of living in space for so long. It was second nature by now, this instinctual response to danger.

Turning around, his eyes went wild with the scene unfolding before them, something that might as well belong to some poorly written horror movie. The door to the interrogation room was open and the glass was empty. Allura walked toward them in large strides, Lotor following suit, like a dutiful shadow.

Uncuffed.

_Free._

Allura raised both hands, palms turned forward as a peace offering, coming to a stop before the jaw-slacked paladins. Lotor rested at her side, hands hidden behind his back and smile set into place between his full lips. The dark bruise painting the underside of his eye stirred something in Lance, an uncomfortable prickling sensation crawling up at his fingertips.

“Please, allow me to explain.” she said before anyone could get a word out, a supplicant look in her eyes. Lance pressed his lips together and from the corner of his eye he saw Shiro and Pidge had done the same. “Lotor has provided some answers. He explained to me what was done to Romelle and that there might be a way to bring her back, the _real_ Romelle.”

“And how exactly are we supposed to do that?” Pidge inquired, eyeing Lotor skeptically.

“It’s not an exact science. But I believe Allura’s connection to quintessence is the key to heal what has been corrupted by Haggar’s druid magic. I saw her do it before.” Lotor said calmly, unfazed under Pidge’s glare. “The principle here is essentially the same.”

“Lotor has explained to me how Haggar is able to control her subjects.” Allura intervened, sensing the atmosphere slowly shift in the room. Lance could almost feel the angry waves coming from Pidge’s tiny body. How tense Shiro had become, shoulders squared and eyes narrowed. “It’s an entity. A malevolent creature that is able to travel through the Rift between worlds. The very same entity that first corrupted Honerva and Zarkon.”

“How is that even possible?” Lance asked, frowning in confusion.

Allura sighed, eyes tired and distant.

“It’s hard to say for sure, Lance. Whatever those creatures are, they’re stronger than druid magic. Strong enough to allow Haggar to pry inside their subjects’ minds and take over.” she said, giving Lotor a side glance before continuing. “But there’s something else you should know.”

Lance met Allura’s gaze and a cool breeze ran down his spine, microscopic needles of ice piercing the naked expanse of the skin on his back. He searched her eyes, finding nothing but sadness and regret.

“There’s _more_? What could be worse than knowing Haggar can control minds now?” Pidge exclaimed, throwing their arms in the air in frustration.

Allura simply nodded, her eyes never once leaving Lance’s. She was trying to tell him something without actually saying the words, but he couldn’t understand. _What is it?_ He wanted to ask, lost somewhere in the depths of his core. _What are you not telling me?_

“Keith was infected with one of those creatures.”

Allura’s voice dissolved into white noise, a persistent ringing in Lance’s ears, hammering against his skull. He could no longer remember how to move or how to breathe, limbs and lungs turned to stone. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do or what to think. All he knew was how to break.

Lance had always heard people say how painful it was to have your heart broken, but he was hoping it would be a one-time thing. Perhaps there was something fundamentally wrong with him. Perhaps his heart wasn’t meant to break only once, like everybody else’s, but to break over and over again; the pieces scattered by the wind, with no chance to be put back together.

“ _What_?”

Shiro’s voice rumbled inside Lance’s head, thunder and lightning altogether. His eyes, unseeing until that moment, caught sight of the former paladin, marching towards Allura like some angry god, bringing the fury of a storm with him.

“What are you saying, Allura? That Keith is being mind-controlled by that witch? Is that it?” he demanded, fuming.

Allura lifted her head painfully slow, meeting Shiro’s gaze with devastatingly blue eyes. She had her lips pursed into a grim line, a deep wrinkle carving a line between her brows.

“I’m so sorry, Shiro.” she muttered, touching his human arm, gentle and soft.

“No, no…” Shiro mumbled under his breath, hand running through the white and silver strands of his hair. “If this is true, then we need to get him back, Allura. Before it’s too late.”

Lance had seen Shiro broken before, after he was returned to them from captivity. He could still see his slumped shoulders and his downcast eyes if he tried hard enough. But Shiro had never sounded like _this_ , so raw and desperate. So out of control.

“How can we be sure what Lotor is saying is true?” Pidge asked, ignoring the prince standing right there next to them, as if he was nothing more than a terrible nuisance.

“You can’t.” Lotor retorted, unperturbed by Pidge’s carelessness. He added with a shrug, “But it is.”

Pidge narrowed their eyes back at him, glinting ominously behind those round glasses. Lotor didn’t so much as flinch. A proud, statuesque figure standing beside Allura.

“And you think Allura can undo whatever spell Haggar cast on them?” Shiro asked warily.

“I do, yes.” he said with a nod. “None of you were in Oriande to see what she’s capable of, but I was. And I still remember what it felt like to witness her power, to see all that she can do.”

“At the very least, I can try.” Allura said. And when her eyes found Lance, a blue so bright it reminded him of a clear summer sky, he froze in place. He felt vulnerable all of a sudden, exposed under the brightness of that look. “Lance, is everything alright? You haven’t said anything.”

The air had dissipated from the room, but somehow, he was still able to breathe. In and out. There were no hands there to hold him and yet he stood still, feet rooted to the ground. Unmoving.

What could he possibly say?

That he could feel his heart breaking all over again? That the thought of Keith as a puppet under Haggar’s control frightened him down to his core?

_No._

There was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do.

Lance knew how to force a smile and make it believable. He knew how to pretend, how to fake a laugh. He had been doing that for so long he could barely remember what a real laughter tasted like. People could only ever see what was reflected in the surface, never the darkness that lurked underneath.

All the days spent building himself back together, wasted. All the hours mending to his lost hope, gone. He fell apart, bending and bleeding. Cut open as a luxite blade tore into his heart. Allura’s words rang inside his head like mines exploding in the skies, painfully loud, obliterating every coherent thought.

“I — I think we should do it.” Lance said after clearing his throat, exhaustion sipping into his voice, rough from lack of use. “If there’s even the slightest chance we can break Keith free from Haggar’s control, I say we should do it.”

“But Lance we don’t even know if this could actually work. What about the risks —”

“I don’t care about the risks. I care about Keith.”

Lance turned to Pidge, blue fire burning in his eyes. They took a step back, mouth falling shut. Lance could feel the stares sent his way, pressing down onto his back with enough force to make him flinch. But he could hardly care when there was only one thought roaming around his mind, as vicious and as dark as poison.

“How long until we can see Romelle?” he asked abruptly.

“I — I don’t know.” Pidge stammered, pushing the glasses up the bridge of their nose. “When I talked to Hunk the procedure wasn’t over yet. But guessing how long it’s been since then it should be over by now.”

Lance nodded at their response, crossing the room in two long strides. When no one else seemed to follow, he turned around, eyes burning with a fiery determination.

“What are you waiting for? We have no time to waste.”

* * *

 

Allura had cuffed Lotor before they moved from the interrogation room, putting herself between him and the rest of the team, acting as a barrier. Lance wasn’t entirely sure if it was because she didn’t trust what the prince could do to them or the other way around. The truth was that Lotor could hardly be considered a prisoner anymore, after divulging some of Haggar’s most dangerous secrets. But the chains were still necessary as they made their way through the Garrison, where each and every Galra was perceived as a threat and trust was all but a fleeting concept.

Lance could get glimpses of Lotor over Allura’s shoulder, staring at the easy sway of his hips and the confident slope of his jaw, hands resting almost comfortably behind his back. Lance found his calm to be unnerving. He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent a bitter retort from slipping. Unlike Pidge, who didn’t seem to care enough to do the same.

Low grumbles reached his ears as if carried by an invisible current of air, a mixture between curse words and undiscernible noises. Pidge seemed confused with Allura’s decision to take a leap of faith, putting her trust on Lotor, or at least some semblance of it. According to Pidge it felt like betrayal. A terrible mistake.

But Lance knew better.

All it took was a glance at them, walking a couple steps further down the corridor, away from the others, almost pressed chest to back.

_She wants to believe him because she still cares about him_ , Lance came to the conclusion.

It was such a McClain thing to do. To hope for change, to believe in second chances. Lance could feel that familiar sensation wrapping around his bones, such a fragile thing.

Lance spared Allura and Lotor another quick glance. He watched as they moved together, setting the same pace, extensions of one another, and he could only hope Allura had better luck than the McClain siblings.

“Guys, I was just on my way to —” Hunk’s voice rescued Lance from his thoughts, faltering as his eyes landed on Lotor’s imposing figure. “Um, not to be rude or anything, but why is Lotor _here_? I’m pretty sure Lance’s punch didn’t cause enough damage to send him to the med bay.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, sorry buddy, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Hunk added at Lance’s yelp, sending him an apologetic smile.

Allura sighed and the sound seemed to reverberate in the confined space of the corridor, sounding louder and heavier somehow.

“Lotor is here because he’s the only one who knows how to… Fix Romelle.” Allura said, grimacing at her own choice of words.

Hunk blinked a couple times, slightly taken aback.

“Oh, that’s… Good.” he said slowly, looking from Allura’s stern semblance to Lotor’s chained hands. He frowned. “If he’s here to help then why is he still cuffed?”

At that, Lotor grinned. He turned his head around, just enough to grant Allura with a questioning look, a single white brow raised. Amusement danced in those strange yellow-blue eyes, as if he was privy to a joke no one else seemed to understand. Allura glared at him, a frown placed on her lips.

“That’s precisely what I asked. But they wouldn’t listen.” Lotor said with a shrug, feigning innocence. Lance thought he could hear the distinct sound of Allura grinding her teeth. “Perhaps you could listen to the wise words of the yellow paladin. I like the way he thinks.”

Lotor finished with a smile, all white teeth and sharp edges, and Lance felt the strongest urge to roll his eyes.

“Oh, I wonder why that is…” he grumbled with a scoff. Lotor didn’t bother to grant him with a response, eyes turned forward once again.

“He’s cuffed because he has yet to prove he can be trusted.” Allura cut in, tone hard and unforgiving. Lotor released a low groan when her hands came to rest on his wrists, forcing him to continue to move with an iron-grip. “We don’t have time to discuss such trivialities.

“I would hardly call my freedom something trivial.”

Allura chose to ignore Lotor’s rebuttal, turning to Hunk instead.

“Is Romelle awake?”

“No, they only just finished stitching her up and gave her some sedatives. Coran is in there with her.” Hunk said, nodding eagerly and stepping aside when Allura strode past him, ushering Lotor past the doors to Romelle’s room.

Lance and Pidge lagged behind, hesitating for a brief moment before following Allura inside. Hunk rushed to meet Lance’s pace, arms brushing together as they walked side by side.

“You really did a number on her.” he murmured in Lance’s ear, careful not to be overheard with Shiro only a couple steps ahead of them.

Lance flinched, face partially hidden behind his shoulders, cheeks burning with shame. And there it was again: _guilt_. It seemed to run through his bloodstream, like disease, thrumming in his ears in pain-stricken pulses.

“I didn’t mean to. I was scared and she said something about —” Lance swallowed hard, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. Is she gonna be okay?”

Lance gathered the courage to look at Hunk and he nearly stumbled on his own feet at the kindness he found swirling in those chocolate brown eyes. It was disconcerting to receive such blatant forgiveness after what he’d done, after all the pain he’d caused, all the blood he’d drawn. He could still hear Romelle’s voice in the back of his mind, agonizing whimpers and hushed cries. Lance closed his eyes with enough force to hurt. For the first time in his entire life, he longed for silence.

“Yeah, she’ll be okay.” Hunk spoke with a soft voice, digging his fingers into Lance’s shoulder. Lance was grateful for the solid weight of his touch. “Don’t worry too much about that. You were defending yourself and whoever is in that room, is not Romelle.”

When Lance didn’t say anything, Hunk pressed harder on his shoulder, both of them coming to an abrupt stop before the infirmary doors.

“Do you hear me, Lance? No one here blames you for what happened. You did what you had to do.” Hunk pinned Lance to the floor with the force of his gaze. “Okay?”

Lance chewed nervously on his bottom lip, releasing a long breath before slowly nodding. Hunk always knew exactly what to say to make him feel better and perhaps it was all the years they spent together, or perhaps it was simply a Hunk thing. Whatever it was, Lance was glad to have him by his side. _For better and for worse_ , he had said at the rooftop.

“Okay.” Lance whispered in return, forcing a smile. It was small and barely touched his cheeks, but it seemed enough to appease Hunk.

“Hey,” Pidge called from the bed, raising their brows past the line of their glasses. “Are you coming in or not?”

Once inside, Lance’s eyes searched frantically for Romelle. He found her on top of a bed, cocooned under white blankets, golden hair splayed against the pillows, dull and lifeless. Lance could feel the strain of the muscles working in his jaw, how hard he was grinding his teeth and the pain it elicited. Hunk’s hand had fallen from his shoulder at some point, but he remained a warm presence behind his back.

Lance didn’t dare to look back at him, eyes trained on Romelle.

She looked paler under the brightness of the artificial lights, lines drawn taut at the corners of her mouth, dark circles blooming under her eyes.

_I did that_ , Lance thought bitterly, stomach coiling tightly with guilt.

“Princess, what is _he_ doing here?” Coran asked, seething at the sight of Lotor, who seemed keen on ignoring everyone in the room with the exception of Allura.

“Lotor is here to help.”

“Help?”

Allura nodded, meeting his gaze.

“He believes whatever Haggar did to Romelle can be undone and that I’m the key to unlock the creature trapped inside her.” she said, matter-of-factly. Coran opened and closed his mouth, orange moustache bobbing up and down above his lips until he conceded with a sigh, sensing Allura’s fierce determination.

At the center of the room, Lotor cleared his throat, shaking his cuffed hands and cocking an eyebrow upwards.

“Allura, darling, could you uncuff me, please?” he suggested, a crooked smile finding its way to his lips.

Allura didn’t so much as uttered a word in response to Lotor, soundlessly moving across the room and placing herself once again behind his back. From where he stood, Lance could see her fingers performing intricate motions, left and right, careful in its ministrations. There was a soft _click_ and the cuffs came undone, landing with a deaf thud on Allura’s hands.

“There. Are you happy now?” Allura asked, tone dry and sharp.

The smile on Lotor’s purple lips widened a fraction, eyes glinting mischievously as he tilted his head to the side, meeting the electric blue in Allura’s eyes, turning a shade brighter under the glow of her markings as they came to life.

“Quite.” Lotor said simply, brushing the underside of his wrists before allowing them to fall at the sides of his body.

“So, now what?” Pidge asked, peering at Romelle’s sleeping form with curiosity.

“Now,” Lotor began, a velvety quality to his voice, smooth as the words rolled from his tongue. He stretched out his hand, palm turned upwards in waiting. “Give me your hand, Allura.”

Lance saw Allura’s shoulders tense at Lotor’s demand, wide blue eyes aimed at the prince, patiently waiting at her side. A light, pink glow dusted her cheeks. Allura looked younger when she blushed, terribly naïve as color flushed underneath her skin like a tidal wave.

Lotor remained utterly still. His gaze bored into Allura’s, a silent challenge shining in the purple flecks of his eyes, lips trembling with barely concealed satisfaction at Allura’s hesitation.

She looked down at Lotor’s hand for a moment longer, lifting her head to meet his gaze a heartbeat later.

Static hovered around them, a dense, somber cloud covering both their faces in shadow. Electricity crackled between their bodies, suspended in time and space. An intake of breath, a stretch of lips.

And, then, a touch of hands.

Lotor guided Allura swiftly through the room, regal and proud, placing her before the infirmary bed and coming to rest at her back. He enveloped her body in his arms, fingers falling down the sleeves of her uniform, until finding solace on top of her hands. Lance felt the sudden urge to look away, as if he had somehow intruded into a private moment.

Lotor pulled Allura’s hands like the strings of a puppet, nested comfortably under his, and placed them on Romelle’s chest with gentle care. Allura had her head turned forward, eyes invariably glued to Romelle’s closed eyelids, the slow undulations of her chest.

“Put your hands on her chest.” Lotor breathed the words in Allura’s ear, touch lingering an instant longer before pulling away. “Close your eyes.”

Allura’s eyelids fluttered closed, lashes no more than a pair of half-moons drawn in black ink against her dark complexion. She breathed in and out, listening to Lotor’s every word, doing as she was told.

“Reach out for her quintessence, Allura. Feel it thrumming under the palms of your hands, prickling at your fingertips.” Lotor continued, just as low as before. Just as soft. “Can you feel it?”

Allura parted her lips and a tiny gasp broke free from the confines of her throat.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Lotor said with a smile, leaning in closer. “Now, seek for the intruder.”

Allura frowned, an angry line carving the space between her brows.

“I found it.” she said, followed by a weak noise, almost as if she was in pain.

“Allura?”

“I can’t — The creature won’t obey me. It’s too strong, I can’t —”

Lotor pressed down harder against her knuckles, covering her hands with his own. The Altean markings lying dormant underneath the corners of his eyes sparked to life, glowing a searing white.

“Yes, you can, Allura. Remember what you’ve learned in Oriande.” Lotor said through gritted teeth, holding tighter onto her. Another small cry left her mouth, unattended. “You’re princess of Altea. You alone conquered the spirit of the White Lion. You can do anything. Do you hear me? _Anything._ ”

Allura groaned, in pain or frustration, Lance couldn’t be sure. Her hands started to tremble, unsteady, cradled under the weight of Lotor’s fingers. A blue glow erupted from Romelle’s chest and a scream tore through her throat, such an agonizing sound it brought chills down Lance’s spine.

He could still hear the echoes of her cries ringing in his ears, becoming one with the noises from before, when Keith’s blade had slashed across her ribs and blood rained down on the pavement.

Lance’s eyes widened at the sight of Allura’s hands as she pulled away from Romelle. A formless creature floated above her chest, hovering between Allura’s fingers, like a wild animal trapped in a cage. It emitted a strange glow, shimmering in hues of blue around the edges and pulsing a bright red in its core. It looked almost alive as it attempted to escape Allura’s grip, desperate for release.

“What is this _thing_?” Pidge exclaimed, wide-eyed.

“This,” Lotor’s voice was barely a whisper as his eyes followed the entity in Allura’s hands. “Is a rift creature.”

“What should I do with it?” Allura asked, uncertain, glancing over her shoulder at Lotor.

Not a beat passed before Lotor snarled a sharp retort.

“Destroy it.”

Allura paused, eyeing the ball of light imprisoned behind her fingers. She seemed to roll Lotor’s words over in her head, thoughtful. And when she spoke again her voice was as hard as stone, unwavering.

“How?”

“They’re parasites. Outside their hosts they become weak.” Lotor said, cupping Allura’s hands, Altean marks shining impossibly bright. “All you have to do is —”

But he didn’t have a chance to finish whatever he was about to say, his voice swallowed under waves of white noise as Allura closed the distance between her hands, eyes firmly shut as a gust of wind engulfed her body, sending her hair in disarray. Searing, blinding light filled the room and Lance had to lift his arm to cover his eyes. The sound of breaking glass pierced his ears and then there was only silence.

Tentatively, Lance forced his eyes open, peering behind his lashes. The strange glow from the rift creature was gone and there was no sign of its floating, shapeless body. It had dissolved into nothingness, back to wherever hellish place it had come from. Allura’s hands were empty once again and the faintest ghost of a smile crawled in the space between her lips. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out as she collapsed against Lotor’s solid chest.

“Allura!” Coran screamed, crossing the room in large strides.

But Lotor was closer and he had his hands wrapped around her elbows to prevent her from falling, his voice reaching her ears as he cradled her in his arms, his face filling her vision as she blearily fluttered her eyes open.

“Allura, are you alright?” he asked, eyes travelling up and down her face, relentlessly.

Lance felt a sting as he bore witness to the look in Lotor’s eyes, as if he was hurting for her, bordering on desperation. It made him wonder if they had been wrong about Lotor. No one could feign emotion like that, not even the most skilled actor. Lance should know, he’s been a pretender in his own life, hoping no one would ever see that same look swirling in the sea of his own eyes.

“I’m… Fine.” Allura said in a small voice, pulling her body away from Lotor’s grasp and refusing to meet his eyes.

“That was —” Hunk began, but was quickly interrupted by Pidge.

“So cool!”

“I was gonna say weird.”

Pidge ignored Hunk’s low grumble, turning a pair of eager eyes towards Allura, exclaiming excitedly.

“Allura, how did you do that? I mean, I’m still not entirely sure about this whole magic thing, but even I have to admit that was awesome!”

Allura blinked, taken aback. She parted her lips, but the voice that bloomed amidst the chaos was as fragile as glass, and most definitely not Allura’s. All eyes turned to the small body swallowed under the whiteness of the sheets, where the voice had come from.

“A — Allura?”

“Romelle, you’re awake!”

“I —” she frowned, confused. Setting herself into a sitting position caused her frown to deepen, hands falling to her sides as she hissed in pain. “What happened? I don’t —”

Allura touched her shoulder, gently pressing her back against the pillows.

“You’re in the medical ward. You weren’t in control of your body. Haggar had seized your mind to herself.” she spoke in clean tones, making sure Romelle would understand. Her eyes widened, turning round with shock. “Don’t you remember?”

Romelle found Lance and the fog in her eyes seemed to dissipate. Recognition crossed her features as she took in his face, the blue of his eyes, the necklace of bruises around his throat. She stiffened at the sight, quickly averting her gaze.

“I remember now.” she murmured, struggling to meet Lance’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Lance. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. That wasn’t me, I —”

“I know.” Lance cut her short, approaching the bed. “You don’t have to apologize. It was Haggar. She was the one who made you do all of those things, who told you to attack me. And I — I had to defend myself, so I guess that makes us even.”

He forced his eyes to remain on Romelle’s face, instead of wandering to the lower parts of her body, where the luxite blade of Keith’s knife had cut across her ribs. Romelle gave him a small nod and Lance felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“How are you feeling, Romelle?” Shiro asked from somewhere behind Lance. He could hear the staccato sound of his footsteps as he approached the bed as well.

“My side hurts a little when I try to move, but other than that I feel fine.” she said, touching the bandages hidden underneath the hospital gown. In one, swift movement her eyes flew past Lance, landing on Allura. “Did you really destroy the thing that was inside me? Am I really free?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Oh, thank you, Allura.” Romelle exhaled.

Allura smiled reassuringly back at Romelle, causing those lilac eyes to glisten with brimming tears. Lance caught the passing glances between Allura and Lotor, silent and fleeting. There was a moment of absolute silence, until she cleared her throat.

“I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this if it wasn’t for Lotor. He proved to being true to his word.” Allura added, eyes still locked on his. Lance thought he spotted Lotor’s lips tremble for a second. But it had been a trick of light, his expression once again impossible to read. “You should thank him as well.”

Romelle looked at Lotor then, swallowing thickly before parting her lips.

“Thank you, prince Lotor.”

Lotor gave her a small wave of his head, every single movement etched with an elegance peculiar to royalty. Lance couldn’t help but feel slightly envious at such an effortless display of grace, how easy it was for people like him to navigate through this world, as if constantly walking on air while the rest of them stumbled on their own feet, struggling not to lose balance and fall into a bottomless pit. He wondered if it was something he could learn or if he was doomed to spend eternity walking through life as if careful not to step onto any landmines.

The sound of Allura’s voice startled Lance back to the infirmary room, no longer lost in the labyrinth of his traitorous mind.

“We should probably leave you to rest. You must be tired.” Allura said to Romelle, turning to whisper something in Coran’s ear before retreating from the bedside. “The rest of us should return to the control room. I believe it’s of the utmost importance to discuss our final preparations before departure.”

“When are we leaving?” Lance asked once he found his voice.

“Tomorrow.” Allura said, stern. “Now that we know what Haggar’s up to, we must leave as soon as possible.”

“And what about Acxa?”

Allura turned to Lotor, tilting her head in confusion.

“What about her?” she retorted, cold eyes framed by a pair of furrowed brows.

“What is gonna happen to her? Will she remain a prisoner here?”

Lance found himself staring into Allura’s eyes, diving into the endless blue. Silence grew thicker and his heart beat faster, blood pumping harder inside his veins as seconds prolonged into minutes.

“That’s not up to me.” she said, looking back at Lance. “What do you think we should do, Lance?”

“Me?”

“Yes, _you_.” Allura insisted, unrelenting. “You’re Keith’s right-hand man, Voltron’s second in command. If anyone could have a final word in this, it should be you, Lance.”

He thought of Acxa and how easily she had chosen to betray them in favor of Lotor. He thought of Veronica and her sad eyes, her fractured smiles, her white knuckles as she gripped the barrel of a gun. His mind was transported to sleepless nights, plagued with somber thoughts, haunted by regret.

And he thought of Keith. Beautiful, brave Keith.

What would _he_ do?

Would he keep her locked in a cage, like some wild animal? Or would he be the one to break the chains bounding her wrists?

“I — I’m not sure.” he stumbled on the words, choking on his own tongue and hoping the flush in his cheeks wouldn’t be visible under the fluorescent lights. “I think I need to talk to her first.”

“What is there to talk about? She kidnapped Keith. We’re all in this mess because of her.” Pidge said grimly, their expression murderous.

“Yeah, but she also tried to break him free from Haggar’s ship. Doesn’t that count for something?” Hunk countered, frowning.

No longer standing on a pair of unsteady legs, Allura made her way towards Lance. They were close, their bodies almost touching, their lungs sharing the same air. Lance’s mind was flooded with memories of the two of them in the Castle of Lions, her arms around him as she pressed their bodies together, broken promises falling from his lips and into her ears.

“If you wanna talk to her, then you should go.” she said in a whisper. “We’ll support you, Lance, no matter which decision you make.”

_I’m not gonna leave her behind_.

A voice resonated deep inside his head, a memory from not so long ago. It sounded painfully like Keith. Suddenly, Lance knew what he was supposed to do. He was not a leader. Not like Shiro, who had been born into this role. And definitely not like Keith, whose leadership had been thrusted upon. He was just a Cuban boy who loved to watch the stars from afar and who had gotten himself lost in the middle of an intergalactic war when he chose to follow the boy who haunted his every dream.

But isn’t that what Lance has been doing this entire time? Following Keith? At the Garrison. Across the arid desert. All the way to outer space.

_I’m not gonna leave her behind_.

Lance left the room in silence.

* * *

 

When Lance was little, barely older than eight years old, his parents had taken him and his siblings to a zoo. He remembered the details of that day with vivid clarity, how his stomach seemed to swirl with waves of anxiety, how sitting still in the back of the car was not an option. He was restless, electric. Veronica kept telling to sit down and to be quiet, but Lance found himself unable to do as he was told, the words flying past his ears and dissolving into thin air.

The initial anticipation Lance had felt at the prospect of seeing the animals quickly turned into full blown excitement as he strolled past the cages, ogling the countless creatures there, some of which he had never seen before. Some were strange, some were beautiful. And then his eyes found one that was equal parts beauty and strangeness.

The beast was large, its heavy paws pouncing soundlessly against the hard ground as it paced from side to side, just as restless as Lance had been in the car. Luminous, orange fur lined with swirling black stripes, glowing a deep golden color as the sun began its descent in the sky. But it was the eyes, bright and with inky dark slits for pupils, that made Lance’s breath hitch. He watched, mesmerized, at the gigantic feline. A single word was etched in the silver plate next to the cage.

_Tiger._

Lance tasted the word as it rolled from his tongue, liking the way it sounded in his ears.

He found himself enraptured by how swiftly the tiger moved, almost majestic in its circular motions. He stared in awe, following the animal’s pacing with wide eyes, unblinking with barely contained fascination. _Beautiful_ , he thought.

But when he caught a glimpse of the dark claws blooming from its paws and the glint of sharp teeth, beauty slowly began to fade. _Dangerous_ , he amended, stepping back from the edge of the glass with a sense of unease weighting heavy at the base of his stomach.

Watching Acxa now, caged behind a glass wall — so similar to the one in the zoo —, gave Lance pause and he was reminded all at once of that familiar sensation crawling in his stomach. She paced restlessly in a never-ending cycle. Hands closed into fists, brows furrowed together, yellow eyes glinting under the artificial glow of the lights. Acxa was eerily similar to that tiger. Too beautiful to be locked in a cage, too dangerous to be set free.

Lance heaved a sigh, stepping closer to the prison cell. Acxa’s movements ceased altogether, as if she had somehow sensed his presence. She lifted her head to the side and their eyes met through the glass.

Lance had trembled at the sight of the tiger’s eyes, honey-like and otherworldly. Now, looking into Acxa’s yellow orbs, he felt no such thing. There were no tremors to his hands, no seizing of muscles. There was only calm and silence. The uneasiness in his stomach was nothing but a distant memory.

“Where’s Lotor? What have you done to him?” Acxa demanded, eyes hard.

“Your prince is safe. You’ll be happy to know he’s no longer a prisoner at the Garrison.” Lance said dismissively, gently tapping his knuckles against the smooth surface of the glass. “The same thing could happen to you, but I need to know something first.”

Acxa narrowed her eyes at him, thin slits of yellow visible behind a curtain of lashes.

“What is it?” she asked, crossing her arms before her chest.

_Defensive_ , Lance thought with a small twist of his mouth.

“Lotor told us Haggar can control people’s minds. He showed Allura how to undo that.” he said, studying Acxa’s controlled reactions; the grim line of her lips, the sharp intake of breath. “Before I set you free, I need to know if —”

“If I’m one of them?” Acxa mused, gathering the meaning of Lance’s words before he got the chance to say them out loud. “No, Lance. I’m not one of her puppets. I knew what I was doing when I made the decision to take Keith. No one else made me do it.”

Nothing.

Lance felt nothing as Acxa’s confession pierced his ears, leaving a bitter aftertaste swimming in his tongue. He felt the muscles in his jaw harden, how difficult it became to swallow. But there was no disappointment. No anger. It was as if a part of him already knew what she was gonna say. He was startled at the realization, hoping he’d somehow managed to conceal the shock from creeping into his face.

“That’s not what you wanted to hear, is it?” Acxa asked and Lance shook his head. “I really am sorry, Lance. I tried to make things right, I had a plan to break all of us free from that place, but —”

“I _know_.” Lance gritted out, taking in a shaky breath. Then, calmer, he spoke again. “I know. Lotor told us everything.”

Acxa nodded slowly.

“If you already knew that then why are you here, Lance?” she asked, voice only half a whisper.

“I’m not sure.” he admitted with a sigh and a humorless chuckle. “I guess I just needed to look into your eyes when I asked you that question. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

Acxa hummed, thoughtful. Her eyes lingered on Lance a moment longer, fingers brushing the soft skin of her neck. Lance stiffened, wondering if she had noticed the marks around his throat, if she knew how it would affect him. But when Acxa spoke again, there was something nostalgic in her voice, melancholy dripping from her tongue.

“Before we left, Keith asked me to deliver you a message. But he never got the chance to tell me what it was.” Lance held his breath captive in his lungs, hoping for more. “I’ve been trying to figure it out ever since I was brought down here.”

“And did you?”

A single nod. No words. Only silence and the crushing sound of air as it forced its way out from Lance’s lungs.

“I think I did.” Acxa murmured, but there was no satisfaction in her tone, no sense of pride at her discovery. “I think he wanted me to tell you he was sorry.”

Lance frowned, clenching his jaw until he could hear the cracking of teeth and bones.

“ _Sorry_? For what?” he sounded bitter and angry. He wondered if that was the sound he always made before breaking.

“For everything, I believe. For all the things he’s ever said to you, but mostly for the things he did not.” Acxa said. Lance didn’t understand. He _couldn’t_ understand. “When you spend as much time with someone as we did, you end up learning a few things about them. I saw the way Keith looked at you when he thought there was no one else in the room. He couldn’t hide it. It was written all over his face. That has always been his weakness.”

“What are you talking about?” Lance erupted, hitting the glass with a closed fist, the impact hard enough to rattle the thick surface.

It was Acxa’s turn to frown at him, confusion painting the planes of her face.

“How do you not know? How did you not _see_?” she retorted, sounding as exasperated as Lance felt.

“See _what_?” he cried out, throat burning as if his insides were on fire.

Acxa’s hand came to rest against the glass, craving touch but meeting the cold, hard surface of her prison wall instead. There was a spark to her eyes, the shine of a thousand stars shimmering against their dark expanse.

“Lance, I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” Acxa was staring blankly at him. Lance shook his head. Something was not right, something was — “You’re not making any sense, Acxa.”

She released a heavy sigh, as if she’d been carrying a terrible burden on her shoulders.

“Keith is in love with you.”

The ground rumbled beneath Lance’s feet, breaking in half as the earth threatened to swallow him whole. The world around him spun out of control, straying from its axis, a blur of color and movement raging behind his closed eyelids.

Lance thought he could feel his heart hanging in the air, held only by threadbare strings made out of his bloody veins. Something fragile, on the brink of falling. He counted down his heartbeats as Acxa’s words buried themselves deeper into the tissue of his bones.

_Keith is in love with you._

He took in a deep breath. His lungs burned.

“You’re lying.” Lance said, but his voice lacked conviction.

Acxa appeared to have been frozen behind the glass wall, like something out of a tragic fairy tale. Her eyes were intent on Lance, taking in the damage her words had caused. Lance opened his mouth, only to purse his lips together a moment later. But Acxa’s eyes defied him, compassionate and _true._ So undeniably true.

“No.” he choked out. “He’s…”

Lance felt nauseous, stomach sinking with the distinct sensation of falling at high speed. He braced for an impact that never came. All he knew was the endless fall and the weight of Acxa’s words as they pulled him under, stronger than gravity.

He heard the splash of water as he dived under the waves, black water sliding past his parted lips, flooding his mouth and raining down his throat. He tasted the salt in his tongue, bitter and awfully familiar. He let the water invade his lungs, limbs growing heavy with fatigue.

_Keith is in love with you._

Lance felt like drowning.

He had forgotten how to swim. His body was lost to a dark sea of his own creation, lulled by the waves. He was sinking fast, like a ship in a storm.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Lance lifted his hand to the locking mechanism imbued in the near wall, fingers strangely stable despite the frantic beating of his heart. He pressed his palm there, followed by a distinct _click_ and the sound of the cell doors whooshing open.

Acxa looked back at him behind long lashes, hesitating before taking a step forward. Slowly, she moved. Her eyebrows were drawn tightly together at the lack of response from Lance, dangerously quiet.

“Lance?” she called, regret pulling at every sharp line and smooth plane of her face.

“Go.” he said. “Just… Go.”

His eyes were distant, miles away from the Garrison, from Earth, not really seeing as Acxa walked past him, faltering before the closed doors. She gave him one last look, parting her lips to say something. The words never found their way towards her tongue, lost somewhere inside her. Acxa lingered there for a moment longer, one foot inside and another on the corridor. Lance silently begged her to _go_ , to leave him alone with his thoughts. He wondered, for a brief moment, as Acxa turned to leave, if she had somehow been able to read his mind.

As the doors closed behind her, Lance collapsed against the nearest wall, legs failing him. He felt a burning sensation running down the expanse of his back, spreading from his shoulder blades; invisible claws scraping skin as he slid further down the wall.

Until he touched the floor.

He looked down at his scarred hands, curling them into tight fists. He could still taste the salt in his lips, a small ocean leaking from the corner of his eyes.

_Keith is in love with you._

* * *

 

Lance was a fool.

He had fooled himself from the very start. As soon as his feet touched the pristine floors of the Galaxy Garrison, as his eyes found that mop of black hair framing the most disconcerting eyes he had ever seen; blue and purple and every color in between. The boy could fit an entire galaxy in those orbs and Lance was unable to look away. It’s been years and still he found himself looking at Keith, lost to that starry night sky.

He should have averted his gaze when he still had the chance, when it was still safe. He should have been strong enough, fast enough. _Before_. Before he had started to care for the boy. Before he had started to _love_ the boy. Before his heart was inevitably torn to pieces; broken picture frames, a sea of shattered glass, glimpses from the past fading into oblivion. Lance struggled not to forget, gripping the edge of those memories with trembling fingers.

Acxa’s words left him disoriented, in need of several long, deep breaths. Her voice haunted his mind, tearing at his soul. Until — at last — the echoes faded from his mind.

Still shaking on the floor, he propelled himself upwards, holding onto the nearest wall for some semblance of balance.

He closed his eyes tightly, massaging one of his temples to will a growing headache away. His mind burst with timely explosions, in tune with each beat of his heart. Lance dragged himself away from the prison cells, following the sound of distant purrs as they coursed through him, drenching his limbs in warmth.

“Hey, McClain? Is that you?”

Lance turned around slowly, his entire body moving at a languish pace, as if under water. He saw the blurry lines of Keith’s face staring back at him, dark hair mistaken for shadows, starlit eyes looking at him with concern. Lance started to reach out for his cheek, fingers trembling with ravenous longing.

“Are you okay, man?” Keith asked, but the voice that left his lips wasn’t his. It sounded _wrong_.

Lance brought his hands to his eyes, drying the remnant of tears with his palms. With a startle, he realized he was sweating, temperature running dangerously high, close to a fever. When he opened his eyes again Keith’s face was no longer staring at him, porcelain skin replaced by darker shades, black hair turned a light brown. And the eyes. The eyes had changed color too, to a muddy brown.

Lance tried to smother the latent disappointment as he watched Keith’s face burn, blown away like tendrils of smoke.

Keith was never there.

_I’m losing my mind_ , Lance chided himself.

How foolish of him, to believe Keith would be there, close enough to touch. He really was a fool. He felt the urge to laugh as he replayed the question in his mind.

_Are you okay?_

“No, I’m not.” Lance mumbled, a sad smile falling from his lips. “I’m so far from okay.”

The boy simply stared at him, not knowing what to do, what to say. Lance could see him clearly now, his chiseled jaw and the straight line of his nose. He remembered him from his classes at the Garrison, one of the MFE pilots. Jayme? James? Was that his name? He wasn’t sure. His head was burning, headache spreading to the back of his head like a forest fire, splitting his skull in half.

_God, it hurt…_

“Should I call for someone? Veronica, maybe?” he offered, but Lance shook his head. “You should go see a doctor, man. You don’t look so good.”

“No, don’t — Don’t tell Veronica. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I could —”

“Don’t.” Lance said through gritted teeth, adding with a sigh before walking away. “You wanna help me? Just forget you saw me here.”

Leaving the boy behind — James, Jayme, or something else entirely —, Lance searched for a place to hide, somewhere he could sit in the dark and allow himself to cry, to release the uncomfortable knot lodged in his throat. He wanted to fight back, to defy the shadows as they drew near, to keep the ghosts at bay. _Go away_ , he screamed inside his head, pulsing harder with every step he took. _Go away, go away, go away._

He was scared, terribly afraid of being alone. He could feel his resolve crumbling, tearing what was left of his heart to pieces, too small to be meld back together. Lost. Lonely. Skin pulled taut against his bones, Lance itched with the desire to scratch himself raw, to set the beast free.

How could he had been so blind?

A scream tore through his lips, a guttural sound that echoed against the walls of the hangar. And then he was falling, knees hitting the cold ground, hard and unforgiving. Hands buried themselves between short strands of brown hair, pulling at the roots. Lance screamed again, and again, throat burning from the effort. He sounded raspy, rough. A wild animal, howling in agony.

_How do you not know? How did you not see?_

_How?_ Lance asked himself, alone in the dark, tears falling from his eyes, chest heaving, strangely hollow. _How?_

“Stupid.” he muttered to himself in between sobs. “How could I have been so stupid?”

He had watched Keith his entire life but his eyes had always lied to him.

The same warmth from before reached for him now, a sensation so familiar it seemed to run with his blood, buried deep in his bones. Lance allowed Red’s presence to flood his mind, imaginary arms wrapping him in a tight embrace, soothing purrs whispered in his ears. He buried his face against a metallic paw, flinching slightly from the cold.

“Did you know?” he murmured into the silence and the response he got felt like a hesitant nod, almost sheepish in its movements. “Why didn’t you tell me, Red? I deserved to know. You saw me suffering all this time and you said _nothing_. Why?”

Another purr, softer this time. Claws scratched the corners of his mind, not meant to hurt but to comfort. Lance sighed, resignation filling the empty space left in his chest.

“I get it. Not your secret to tell.” he said out loud. “I know I should feel happy to know that Keith feels the same way but I just… Can’t. How can I be happy not knowing where he is? How can I be happy when I can’t even hold him the way I would if he was here to tell me that himself? I just wish he had said something to me before —”

The sound of hushed voices and hurried footsteps that rippled across the hangar made him stop midsentence. Lance was startled into motion, eyes narrowing in the dark as he tried to make out the shapes scurrying inside. At late hours in the night, the hangar was usually empty, with the exception of the Lions and Lance’s occasional wanderings when he had difficulty to fall back asleep after waking from one of his nightmares.

And then, he saw them.

A pair of intruders, whispering to one another like thieves in the night. White hair shone silver as a thread of moonlight was filtered into the room, touching the luscious strands. Lance frowned, tears drying out at the corners of his eyes, as he spotted the pink glow of Allura’s Altean markings. Beside her, Lotor’s markings shone a bright white, driving the shadows away from his face.

Lance stepped closer, mindful of his own footsteps, careful not to be heard. Peering from behind one of Red’s paws, he saw the moment Lotor placed his hand on top of Allura’s cheek, thumb drawing small circles on her skin, tracing the glowing marks etched there. He had his head tipped forward; eyes closed. Allura met him halfway, eyelids fluttering closed as their foreheads touched.

_Oh,_ Lance thought, _oh._

Lance knew he should look away, to allow them a moment of privacy, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him, like the petals of a flower opening themselves to sunlight. Red roared disapprovingly in the back of his mind. _Look away_ , she seemed to say, _this doesn’t concern you._

Lance knew she was right but he was frozen in place, unable to move or look away.

“ _Don’t._ ” Allura said, stepping away as she pushed Lotor’s hand from her face, a sharp bite to her voice. “You may not be a prisoner anymore, Lotor. But it doesn’t mean I have forgiven you.”

“Allura —”

“There’s a war coming, we’re leaving tomorrow. I don’t have time for this.”

“That’s precisely why we should make the time to _talk_.” Lotor said, cutting her short. Allura frowned, blue eyes twinkling with confusion. “That’s all I want, to talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“How can you say that? I thought you felt the same for me. I thought, even after all this time, you still did.” the hangar was eerily quiet, uncomfortably so. No sound came out from Allura’s mouth and a shadow crossed Lotor’s features. “Are you and the red paladin —”

“Lotor, please, _don’t_.”

Allura begged one last time, resting a hand on his chest, lingering there a moment longer before gently pushing him away. Lotor didn’t utter a word, but his eyes stayed locked on Allura. The quiet was deafening, the atmosphere heavier somehow, pressure weighting down on their shoulders. He let a lock of Allura’s silvery-white hair slide between his fingers before walking away. Lotor didn’t look back, tugged by the shadows at his broad shoulders and long limbs, until disappearing into the darkness.

Lance watched in silence as Allura closed her hands into tight fists at the sides of her body, a small noise plucked from her vocal chords, slipping past her pursed lips and clenched jaw.

“Allura?”

Allura snapped her head back, searching for the source of the voice calling out her name. Their eyes met and Lance watched in awe as her entire body seemed to deflate at the sight of him, allowing vulnerability to slip past her defenses. It was a rare thing, to see the real Allura; not the unyielding princess, or the skilled paladin, but only a girl who had lost so much and still found the strength within herself to keep moving; head held high, shoulders squared back.

“Lance.” his name came out in a ragged breath. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough.” he replied, stepping away from Red. Allura sat on top of a sleek, metal claw, avoiding Lance’s eyes. “I saw you and Lotor.”

“You did?”

“I didn’t mean to intrude, I just — I’m sorry.” Lance said, averting his gaze like he should have done earlier. “We don’t have to talk about it. It’s none of my business.”

Allura chewed on her bottom lip, releasing a resigned sigh.

“Come here, Lance.” she said, beckoning him to sit at her side. Hesitantly, he approached, leg brushing against hers as he sat down on Red’s claw. “You don’t need to apologize. What you saw was never meant to be a secret. Lotor and I, we were just —”

Lance waited for her as she searched for the words, but there was nothing beyond the sound of her breathing.

“Talking?” Lance offered, raising an eyebrow.

Allura looked at him from the corner of her eye, markings shining brighter and flushing her cheeks with color, hair glinting in the moonlight.

“That’s one way to put it, I suppose.” she said defeatedly. “You asked me once if I’ve ever been in love. Do you remember that, Lance?”

Lance nodded, not trusting his own voice. He pressed a hand over his stomach as it coiled painfully with the reminder. He recalled that day with terrifying clarity; the day he had laid his heart bare at Allura’s feet, the day Keith was taken from his arms yet again. He swallowed a sob, blinking away the moist gathering in his eyes, blurring the edges of his vision.

“I wasn’t entirely honest with you when I said I wasn’t sure.” Allura continued, a far-off quality to her voice. “The truth is, I always knew I felt. But I wanted to give you a chance, to give _us_ a chance. I convinced myself we both deserved some happiness after everything that had happened, when really I was just giving in to my selfish impulses.”

Lance reached for Allura’s hand, resting limp between their bodies, waiting to be touched and held. He covered her knuckles with his scarred palm, applying a gentle pressure. She squeezed his hand back in silent response.

“I’m sorry, Lance, for not being more considerate with your feelings. You told me I deserved someone better, but so do you.” she added; eyes boring into his. “Maybe we weren’t right for each other, but that doesn’t mean we won’t be right for anyone else.”

Lance closed his eyes, a single tear leaving a lonely trail on the slope of his cheekbone. He lost himself to the feeling of having Allura’s hand safely tucked against his, her fingers grazing the brand-new white lines carved in his palms. It was oddly comforting. She hummed softly, cradling both of his hands. When Lance opened his eyes, he saw Allura staring intently at his scars, tracing their pattern with her eyes.

“You know, I could heal those for you. Make them disappear, as if it had never happened.” she said all of a sudden but the mere thought pulled a string in his heart.

Lance smiled, closing his hands around hers, depriving her of the sight.

“Thanks, but I think I wanna keep them.”

Allura lifted an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“To remind me how quickly things can change.” Lance’s voice was barely a whisper as his thoughts wandered to Keith, to the feel of his hands against his as they ran from enemy fire; his chest acting as a solid pillow where he could lay his head on, ears ringing with the echoes of an explosion, senses overwhelmed with the acrid smell of gunpowder and burnt flesh; the curl of his lips as his eyes shone with a kaleidoscope of colors, holding stars hostage in that gaze. “To make sure I never take anything for granted. Ever again.”

Lance caught a glimpse of Allura’s smile directed at him, the glint of a single pearl hanging from her lashes. He knew that if there was anyone in his team that would be able to understand him, it was Allura. Their connection ran deep, like the roots of a tree, tethered to the core of the earth.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” she asked after a heartbeat of silence.

Lance huffed a short laugh.

“Honestly? I’m terrified.” he replied, lifting an invisible weight from his shoulders. “I don’t know what we’re gonna find out there, if Keith will still be himself or —” he stopped midsentence, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’m ready to face him.”

“You won’t be alone there, Lance.” Allura said reassuringly. He looked back at her, allowing her certainty to pour into his bloodstream. “We’re all gonna be there with you, at your side. We’re a team.”

Allura’s words awakened some dormant creature inhabiting his chest, bringing buried memories back to the surface, his own words reflected back at him against the surface of an old mirror, cracked and frail around the edges

_We are a good team,_ he heard himself in his ears. A distant echo, marred with static.

He smiled at the thought and, in his head, Red purred contently. Lance felt incredibly warm all of a sudden, ice melting from his veins. He looked into Allura’s eyes and gave her hand a tight squeeze, basking in her light. The shadows could no longer touch him and he realized, as a spark burned brighter inside him, that he wasn’t afraid anymore.

Lance took in a deep breath, exhaling through parted lips.

“Let’s go get Keith back.”


	10. part x - we've fallen to the dark as we dive under the waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance blinked away the surprise. But he was still there, staring back at him with those deeply disconcerting eyes.  
> Keith was there.  
> Fear coursed through his veins, as thick as blood, turning his body into a strange combination between paralyzed limbs and numb nerves. His eyes were open wide, unblinking, intent on the sight of Keith. The real Keith, not a figment from his imagination or an elaborate creature inhabiting his dreams.  
> All he could see was Keith. Solid and real on the other side of that room.  
> Thoughts reeled at the sight of him. At the soft undulations of his chest as he breathed in and out. How the lights of the ship would swallow half of his face in a purple glow, sharpening the angles of his cheekbones, borrowing the starlit glaze of his eyes. How much he had changed and yet still managed to remain the same. How the world outside burned in explosions of red and gold against his skin. He looked like a god, bathed in heavenly fire.  
> “Keith?” the name stumbled from his mouth, careless.  
> Keith smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter comes from 'Silhouette' by Aquilo. Please, take your time to read this. I got a little overboard oops... Happy reading!  
> More notes at the end...

**part x**

**we’ve fallen to the dark as we dive under the waves**

* * *

 

 _Let's go out in flames so everyone knows who we are_  
_'Cause these city walls never knew that we'd make it this far_  
 _We've become echoes, but echoes are fading away_  
 _So let's dance like two shadows, burning out a glory day_

* * *

 

Waiting.

Lance had always hated waiting, ever since he was a child. He had never learned how to stay in one place, how to become an unmovable force, passive as the world turned on its axis, as colors and voices faded in the background around him. He had always been too eager to _move_ , too enthralled by the chaos and the noise. He had always craved the _action_ , the need to do something. To turn alongside the Earth, creating a brand-new orbit entirely of his own accord. Unstoppable. On and on.

Anything was preferable to standing still.

But Lance had been patient, watching as time slipped freely between his fingers, lost to the never-ending wait. He was plagued with questions that were left unanswered, swallowing his frustrations in silence, wondering how long would take for them to finally find Keith. How long until he could lay eyes on that mop of disheveled, midnight hair. How long until he could stare into the bottomless blue of those eyes, so dark it was almost violet, shining bright with effervescent light as countless stars exploded inside them. How long until he could touch smooth skin, torn at the seams with scars as white as the moon.

How long until the inevitable change?

Lance watched Romelle on the other side of the glass, laying still on an infirmary bed, the lower half of her body covered under layers of white sheets. Coran stood at her side, as he had been since the night before, caring for her every need, making sure the entity that once inhabited her insides was truly gone. For the relief of the entire team she had shown no signs of being anyone other than Romelle. Sweet, harmless Romelle.

Lance grazed the tip of his fingers against the phantom marks around his neck, long faded. But whenever he closed his eyes, he could still feel the sensation of having Romelle’s hands pressed around his throat, hard and unforgiving.

But still he waited.

He stood outside her bedroom and waited, eyes following the constant rising and falling of her chest as she slept, consciousness lulled away under waves of sedatives as they were poured into her bloodstream.

Around Lance, the world continued to spin. People came and went, carrying medical supplies to the IGF-Atlas as the hour of departure quickly approached, hovering above them like a dark cloud. Ominous and all-encompassing. He absently heard the sound of hurried footsteps, the whooshing sounds of doors opening and closing, familiar voices reaching his ears in the form of distant echoes. He could feel his lips moving, words forming, rolling from his tongue as he granted them with dull responses, devoid of feeling.

There was nothing but the wait.

Lance looked at Romelle, at Coran at her bedside, at the bandages peaking through the sheer material of her hospital gown. He looked at her and thought about the dream he had had last night.

 _No, not a dream,_ he corrected himself, flinching at the reminder. _A nightmare._

It was almost as if he had stumbled back in time. Hours fading away, seconds running backwards. Everything was the same as yesterday. Lotor was still in chains, locked behind the thick walls of the interrogation room, invisible but for glimpses of white hair and purple skin Lance was able to discern through the glass.

And breathing was still difficult.

Lance could feel his lungs aching with the strain, his throat burning. He remembered leaving, gasping for air, desperate for release.

Outside, he inhaled the desert air — dry and sharp —, feeding his starved lungs, parting his lips as his chest deflated. He relished in the sensation, breathing in and out.

 _In and_ _out_ , he told himself in a quiet mantra.

And as the doors slid open behind him, Lance felt his body move of its own accord, turning around ever so slowly. He found himself staring at a pair of indigo eyes, familiar in its uniqueness. His chest throbbed at the sight, heart missing a beat, a dull ache crawling in his bones.

In his dream-like state, Lance could do nothing but succumb to that ravenous longing, closing the distance between their bodies and colliding against Keith with enough force to bruise. Chest to chest. Hands searching. Breaths mingling. Lance could feel Keith _everywhere_. His hands roamed his body. Long, calloused fingers climbing his waist with purpose, applying the smallest of pressures on his ribs, his sternum, finding solace on his clavicle. He counted down the bones laying there, beneath a thin layer of sun-kissed skin.

Lance exhaled, sighing in blissful relief.

Because Keith was _there_. In his arms. Close enough to touch.

He mouthed Keith’s name, relishing in the easy way the letters rolled out of his tongue, tasting bittersweet as he swallowed them back, locking them once again in his ribcage.

Lance trembled under Keith’s every touch, laid bare and completely at his mercy. _Take me_ , his body seemed to scream. _I’m yours, take all of me._ Keith’s hands were hard and solid against his chest, his teeth sharp as he grazed the delicate skin of Lance’s earlobe. And if he closed his eyes, Lance could still remember the way his skin raised with goosebumps as Keith breathed out his name, low and awfully soft, leaving a scorching trail down the slope of his neck.

Lance burned, burned, burned.

But the fire slowly died, turning to embers and ashes as Keith’s hands — strong and calloused and beautiful — found their way to his neck, replacing those small, open-mouthed kisses with the pads of his fingers.

Something had changed then.

Lance looked into Keith’s eyes hoping to see the colorful glow of the stars swirling around their dark expanse, instead falling prey to a pitch-black darkness. Endless and absolute.

“Smile for me, Lance.” murmured the Keith from his dreams, lips parting to form a smile of his own, wicked and cruel.

 _This is wrong_ , Lance remembered thinking, choking on his own breath as Keith’s fingers closed around his throat. His corrupted smile only grew wider, teeth sharpening in a wolfish grin.

_This is wrong._

His hands shook in desperate attempts to free himself from Keith’s strong hold, his legs failing him as he sank to the ground with a deaf thud. Pain sprung from his knees, traveling upwards, until his bones rattled from the impact. Lance felt his eyelids fluttering shut as the oxygen was denied to his lungs, the blinding white of Keith’s teeth emblazoned behind his skin.

Lance had woken up with a gasp, suffocating from the weight of imaginary fingers clamped around his neck. Heart beating in a frantic rhythm, threatening to burst from the confines of his chest cavity, tearing through bone and flesh alike.

And, no matter how long it’s been since he escaped that dreadful nightmare, Lance could still see the sly curve of Keith’s mouth every time he closed his eyes, blazing white and feral. His fingers still circled his throat in a vice grip, his voice sickly-sweet as it poured into his ears, as thick and as syrupy as honey.

 Curling his hands into fists, Lance inhaled deeply, trying to clear his mind of any lingering thoughts of Keith. But he found himself unable to do so. Not when he was so close to getting him back, to running his fingers through his hair and burying his face in the curve of his neck. Not when Acxa’s words were still fresh in his memory, resonating with each heartbeat, flowing along his bloodstream.

_Keith is in love with you._

Lance ached.

He burned.

_But isn’t that what love is supposed to do?_

Lance swallowed his own words with some difficulty, clenching his jaw as a voice echoed in the back of his mind.

_To burn?_

“Lance?”

Lance was startled back to reality as a hand came to rest on one of his shoulders, fingers digging into muscle. Snapping his head to the side, he caught sight of Allura. Blue eyes shone with thinly veiled concern, framed under a pair of furrowed eyebrows.

“How long have you been here?” she asked gently, carefully, as if afraid she might scare him otherwise.

Lance blinked back at her. Her eyes shone under the artificial glow of the lights; blue gemstones incrusted in bronze.

“I — I’m not sure.” he confessed after a moment, voice leaving his mouth in the form of a whisper. Allura’s entire demeanor seemed to soften then, shoulders slumping forward and the creases on her brows smoothing to clean lines. “Is Romelle coming with us?”

Allura averted her gaze, following Lance’s line of sight towards the sleeping figure on the other side of the glass.

“No, she needs to rest.” she said, shaking her head. “I wish Coran could stay here on Earth, to watch over her. But he claims he belongs at my side, no matter where I go.”

Lance could feel his lips curling around the edges, something akin to a smile slowly taking form.

“He’s always taken care of you, Allura. Why would it be any different now?” he asked, giving Allura a sidelong glance.

Allura sighed.

“Everything’s different now, Lance. I don’t think we’ve ever been this close to finally putting an end to this war.” she said, eyes intent on Coran, following his every move. “Where we’re going… It’s not safe. I don’t want him to end up getting hurt because of me.”

“I don’t think it’s your decision to make.” Lance said softly, receiving a resigned nod from Allura.

Her eyes met his and a smile illuminated her features. There were no teeth and barely any warmth in it. It was barely a stretch of lips, edges curling slightly upwards. But Lance found it reassuring, drifting closer as he was pulled into her orbit. His mouth trembled, his stomach twisting in knots.

“Say your goodbyes, Lance. We don’t know for how long we’ll be out there, it might be a while before we come back.” Allura said, almost hesitant, regretting the words as she spoke them. Lance swallowed thickly; mouth suddenly dry. “When you’re done, come find us at the Lions’ hangar. We’ll be waiting.”

Lance couldn’t help but notice the finality of her tone, a dooming quality to her voice and the words she spoke. _This is it_ , Lance thought as he watched her go, silence filling the emptiness she had left behind as she crossed the bedroom door. Lance’s gaze followed her, unable to look away as she settled a hand on Romelle’s head, threading her fingers through thick locks of hair, brushing away stray strands that fell across her sleeping face.

He forced his feet to move, making his way down the crowded corridors, bustling with activity as people scurried from different rooms. Officers barked orders to cadets, throwing more boxes of supplies onto their waiting arms and sending them off at a fast pace. _Go_ , they screamed, _Captain Shirogane needs this loaded to the Atlas now_. Lance ignored the constant ogling from some of the younger cadets, their eyes wide as he slithered past open doors and blank walls. He could barely see where he was going, mind reeling with thoughts of his family, of home.

Would he ever see them again? Would he come back this time?

Doubt plagued his every step as he half dragged, half pulled his body towards his parents’ house. Fear coiled at the base of his stomach, dark and tight. He could see the shadows prying at the edges of his eyes, vision speckled with black dots.

The McClains have always thrived in chaos, reveling in the noise and the cacophony of voices, loud and boisterous laughter. Each battling the other for attention, struggling to be heard, desperate to be seen. But, in that moment, they all seemed to have slipped under a frozen spell, statuesque figures staring back at Lance, whose eyes were brimming with unshed tears, his teeth buried deep into his bottom lip.

All it took was one look and the house slipped into an eerie silence. It was deafening, pressure weighting down on them as they plunged into the waves, diving into the darkest parts of the ocean, miles underneath the surface. They all fell quiet, staring back at Lance — the youngest of five, the loudest of them all — with wide eyes, drinking in his silence, losing themselves to the stormy blue of his McClain eyes.

His mother took one look at him and suddenly she knew. He didn’t even have to say anything. Lance was grateful for being spared the effort, not entirely sure he’d be able to find the words, all of them trapped somewhere inside him, impossible to reach.

Lance inhaled sharply as his mother’s hands came to rest on his cheeks, cradling his face in warmth. Bony fingers curled around thick wrists, bounding her to him, unwilling to let go. He felt safe in her arms, he felt _whole_.

“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” she asked, impossibly soft.

His mother’s voice was barely a whisper, brushing the underside of his jaw in gentle puffs of air. Lance gritted his teeth, nodding his head once. He still couldn’t bring himself to search for the words, too scared of what he might find lurking in the shadows. He had been granted a second chance, to say his goodbyes, to leave his family without a heavy burden weighting on their shoulders. And yet, he _couldn’t_.

“I don’t want to go, _mamá._ I don’t want to leave you.” Lance croaked out, voice scratching his throat as he forced the words out. He flinched at how fragile, how small he sounded in his own ears. “But I — I have to. Someone needs me. He needs me and I can’t —”

“ _No llores, mijo._ ”

Lance looked down at his mother, deep into her eyes as the blue painting her orbs softened, the skin around the corners crackling like an old painting. With the pad of her fingers, she caught the steady flow of tears dripping from his lashes, erasing the dark patterns drawn on the smooth slope of his cheekbones.

Her voice was a gentle caress against his heart, soothing the dull pain etched there.

“Don’t cry, _mijo_. We’ll still be here when you come back.” she said, pressing a feathery kiss on each of his cheeks. Lance wondered if she could taste his tears, if their sharp bitterness was now forever engraved in his skin. “Do what you have to do out there and then come back to us.”

Lance nodded, swallowing the invisible lump lodged in his throat. Lungs filled with water, heartbeat erratic. The voices of his siblings were drowned under the rapid rush of blood, pumping loud in his ears, tuning out everything else. War drums and the rumble of thunder. A tight fist around his heart, squeezing it until the strings fell apart, coming undone. Until he could no longer hear the steady flow of his bloodstream. Until there was nothing but the heat of countless bodies as they crashed into him, swarmed whole by his brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces.

A noise erupted from the back of his throat, so small and brittle he almost didn’t recognize it as his own. No more than a suffocated cry, an unintelligible plea only half formed, smothered by his siblings’ cries.

“You came back to us before.” Lance heard his mother saying. A prayer whispered in his ear as she held him close to her chest. He could feel her heartbeat, just as frantic as his own, just as terrified as he was. “You’ll come back to us again.”

He clung to her words like a frightened child, trembling fingers grasping for something solid, allowing that spark to burn in his core, to cast the shadows away. Lance thought, perhaps, that little bit of hope was just enough to keep him going.

And to bring him back.

Safe.

Alive.

 _Whole_.

* * *

 

Leaving his family behind was like reopening old wounds. A knife to the heart. And Lance found it harder to breathe with each step that he took farther away from his parents’ home, chest constricting. Tighter, tighter, tighter. He played his mother’s words in his head, again and again, her voice pounding against his skull in distant echoes.

_Come back to us._

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Lance breathed in. Curling and uncurling his fists, body becoming restless from all the waiting. He wasn’t made to the standing still. Those long limbs were built for running, fingers itching with the familiar sensation of pulling a trigger, the smell of smoke and gunpowder invading his senses. Somewhere in the back of his head he heard Red roar. She was becoming restless as well, craving for the fire of battle.

Lance rested a hand on one of those large paws, cold seeping under his fingertips despite the gloves he wore.

“It’s time to bring him back, girl.” he whispered to Red, touching his forehead to the metallic surface.

“Talking to yourself, little brother?”

Lance lifted his head, meeting the electric blue of Veronica’s eyes. A smile danced on her lips; her head tilted to the side as she regarded him back with curiosity. He hadn’t heard her approaching, too enthralled by the thoughts roaming inside his head, lost to the noise.

His lips broke into a smile despite the pressure around his heart. Veronica frowned, all amusement gone from her face. Lance wondered what she had seen in that smile. He was tired of the constant pretending, of all the lies and the hurt. He was _exhausted._ Maybe it had been the dark circles under his eyes, engraved on his skin after so many sleepless nights. Maybe she simply knew him too well. Like his mother, all she had to do was _look_.

“Have you talked to them?” Veronica asked, stepping closer, unaffected by the imposing size of the mechanical Lion. “When I told _mamá_ I was going to space she hugged me for an hour, I swear. I thought she’d never let me go.”

Lance looked down at his hands, tracing the scars beneath his gloves with his eyes. He could still feel the heat from his mother’s hands on his face, strong and calloused and so, so warm. Her voice still ringed in his ears.

_Come back to us._

“It was hard. For a moment I thought…” he inhaled deeply, exhaling through trembling lips. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to leave.”

Next to him, Veronica sighed.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” she said, reaching for Lance’s hand and squeezing his knuckles. He lifted his gaze back towards her. “We’re gonna make it through this, Lance. All of us.”

He gave her a firm nod of his head, squeezing her hand in return. Veronica’s lips quirked a fraction upwards, eyes glinting behind her glasses.

“And Lance?” Veronica called, her tone causing Lance’s eyebrows to shot upwards in confusion. “Next time you’re not feeling well, don’t try to hide it from me. I’m your big sister, so just let me take care of you. Okay?”

Lance felt his entire face burn as heat flood his cheeks, no doubt painting his skin a deep shade of red. He pulled his hand back abruptly, flustered as he stumbled on his own words.

“I — I didn’t — How did you —”

“James told me.” Veronica said with a shrug.

Lance furrowed his brows, huffing in barely concealed irritation.

“I told him not to tell you anything!”

Veronica chuckled, bringing a hand to cover her mouth when Lance aimed an angry look back at her.

“Little unknown fact? James is a huge gossip. He can’t keep a secret to save his life.” she said.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should’ve told me that sooner.” Lance replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest defensively.

Veronica shook her head, releasing a long sigh, laughter subsiding to a low snickering.

“For once, I’m glad he couldn’t keep a secret.” she said, disarming Lance with a single touch of her hand. Slowly, he unfurled his arms, stealing a glance at her behind dark lashes. “Lance, I want you to stop trying to hide your feelings. I mean, look where that got you.”

“What are you saying?” he asked, frowning.

“You’re miserable, Lance. When was the last time you smiled? A _real_ smile? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before.” Veronica paused. Lance shivered under the scrutiny of her gaze. “You’re just so…”

Another pause, longer this time. Lance counted his heartbeats as silence grew wider between them, becoming heavier with each passing second.

“So _what_?”

“So heartbroken.”

The word dripped from her lips like molten lava and Lance was consumed by the flames, burning bright, bright, brighter. Until there was nothing but the staccato crackle of dying embers as cinders rained down on his lips, filling his lungs with smoke.

Lance stared back at Veronica, unblinking. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her eyes turned a darker shade of blue, like the ocean during a storm. Lance could feel his temperature rising, feverish. Flames licking the inside of his veins, Red’s roars fueling his anger.

“That’s because I am, Ronnie!” he nearly shouted, biting his lip with enough force to break skin. He ignored the stares he received from his teammates, staring intently at his sister. “I _am_ heartbroken. And you’d be too if the boy you loved was lost somewhere out there, being tortured by some evil space witch.” he added, lowering his voice. His eyelids fluttered shut and he tasted salt and iron as blood sprouted from his bitten lip. “What if we find him and he’s no longer himself? What if he doesn’t —”

Lance cut himself short, choking midsentence. It felt like the knife piercing his heart had climbed to his throat, ripping his insides apart. His senses were overwhelmed by the metallic tang of blood, body drifting in a sea of doubt, mind reeling from all the _what ifs._

“What, Lance?” Veronica insisted when he didn’t continue, pulling him back to the shore. “What were you gonna say?”

_Keith is in love with you._

Lance shook his head, praying for Acxa’s voice to fade from his memory.

“Nothing.” he said shortly, his tone clipped. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Lance —”

“Let it go, Ronnie.” Lance blurted, cutting her short. “You don’t see me asking you about Acxa all the time, do you?”

Veronica’s cheeks were tinted red at the mention of Acxa, jaw clenched tightly as her eyes doubled in size. Lance felt a pang of satisfaction at the reaction he had elicited from her. But it only lasted a second. He knew there was much she refused to tell him, secrets she kept locked in a safe inside her heart.

“Yeah, because there is nothing going on between us.” she retorted once the flush of color faded from her skin. Lance sent her an unimpressed look, lifting a single eyebrow. “Lance, this is not about me and Acxa. This is about you and your inability to talk about your feelings.”

Lance scoffed, rolling his eyes. Veronica looked back at him, waiting.

“I talk about my feelings all the time, Ronnie. Ask Hunk, he’s probably tired of hearing about them after all these years.”

“I was talking about your _real_ feelings, Lance.” she said, pressing two of her fingers against the fabric of his uniform, right above his heart. “The ones you keep locked in _here_.”

Lance batted her hand away, falling limp from where it was pressed against his chest.

“Fine. _Fine._ ” he said through gritted teeth. “You wanna know how I _really_ feel? I’m scared, Ronnie. I’m terrified of going back to space. I hate not knowing what is waiting for us out there, if we’ll ever come back home. But, most of all, I’m scared of losing Keith.”

The expression plastered on Veronica’s face crumbled under the weight of Lance’s words. Silence settled in the space between them, Lance’s ragged breathing the only audible sound.

“ _There_ , I told you. Now it’s your turn.” he gritted out, catching a glimpse of Veronica’s throat as she tried to swallow. “Why are you avoiding Acxa? She tried to talk to you, I saw it. But you always turn around with some lame excuse.”

“There’s _nothing_ for us to talk about, Lance.” Veronica retorted, failing to mask the bite from her voice. Her lips trembled, from anger or something else, Lance couldn’t be sure. “Besides, what’s the point? She’ll probably just lie to me… _Again_.”

“You don’t know that.” Lance said, stealing a quick glance at Acxa, standing at the far end of the hangar. He took in the sharp angles and smooth planes of her face; eyes fleeting briefly towards the Red Lion, cheeks darkening as they landed on Veronica. “You know what they say, third time’s the charm.”

Veronica let out a humorless chuckle and Lance noticed from the corner of his eye the moment Acxa looked away, whispering something in Lotor’s ear before scurrying past the doors.

“I can’t believe you of all people is telling me I should give Acxa another chance.” she shook her head once, sending a questioning look at Lance. “She kidnapped Keith. She betrayed all of you, all of _us_. Everything that comes out of her mouth is a lie.”

“Not everything.”

Lance thought about what Acxa had told him in her prison cell. How certain she had sounded. How her voice never once wavered as she spoke the words, slow so he could understand. So he would know.

He owned her that much, at the very least.

“What is it that you’re not telling me?” Veronica asked, eyeing him carefully.

“Just talk to her, Ronnie.” Lance said after a moment of hesitation. “Look, all I’m saying is that you could hear what she has to say once the war is over. I see the way she looks at you and I know you’ve seen it too.”

When the only answer he got from Veronica was stoic silence, Lance rushed to add in a more playful note.

“Someone very wise once told me that it’s not healthy to keep your feelings bottled up inside.”

Veronica groaned loudly, hiding her face behind her hands. But Lance was still able to see a smile peeking through her fingers.

“Using my own words against me? That’s a low blow, Lance, even for you.”

Lance shrugged, releasing a short laugh as Veronica’s fist connected with his shoulder, sending him slightly off-balance.

“You’re an ass.”

“I’m your little brother, it’s in my job description.” Lance said, smile still painted across his lips. “Just think about it, sis.”

Lance stepped away from Red, leaving a flustered Veronica standing between two metallic claws. Lance could feel the weight of his sister’s gaze hovering on his shoulder blades, cataloguing each step he took, each pain-stricken breath that left his mouth.

Lance felt as if some of the knots in his stomach had come undone as he dared a look over his shoulder, catching Veronica’s liquid eyes pouring all over the room as she searched for something. For someone. A ripple disturbing the calm surface of a lake, a swirl below your feet, unseen until it was too late and you got lost to the current.

* * *

 

Lance kept the smile in place, unflinching. He could barely feel the strain as it pulled at the muscles on his face, carving a pair of twin dimples on each of his cheeks. The pounding of his heart was swallowed by the cheers from the crowd as thousands of people — humans and aliens alike — were gathered around the Garrison to bid them all a safe journey.

From where Lance stood, at the back of the stage alongside the other paladins, he was unable to discern their faces, most of them cast in shadows as the Lions loomed above; lifeless yellow eyes downcast, watching over them all.

“Dude, you could at least pretend you’re paying attention.” Pidge grumbled at his side, eyes trained forward, where Shiro gave another one of his inspirational speeches. Lance couldn’t recall a single word he had spoken at that moment in time. “What’s on your mind?”

Lance gave them a sidelong glance, tuning out Shiro’s voice as it blasted through the speakers, catching only bits and pieces of what was being said, words about sacrifice and triumph reaching his ears.

“You know what’s on my mind.” Lance replied in a low voice, forcing a smile when a new wave of cheers rippled across the sea of faceless people.

“Don’t you mean _who_?”

Lance glared down at Pidge, lips pursed in a grim line, smile gone. Amber eyes glinted ominously behind those round glasses, a mischievous grin spreading on their mouth.        “Pidge…”

They flashed him a bright smile, a row of white teeth reflecting the glow of the sun hanging above their heads, and Lance blinked back in response, slightly taken aback. Something about the way the corners of Pidge’s lips curled, slow and almost hesitant, gave Lance pause.

“Find me before we get to our Lions. There’s something I wanna give you before the take-off.” Pidge whispered quickly, mouth falling shut just in time for Lance to hear Shiro delivering his final line.

A row of applause broke through the crowd, their screams loud enough to pierce holes in Lance’s ears. He remembered the days when he would bask in the attention, drenched in all that warmth, so freely given. How he would relish as countless people chanted his name, a tuneless chorus of _Lance, Lance, Lance._ How meaningless it all felt in that moment, as his eyes strayed to the side and found it empty. How disappointed he felt knowing that if he searched the crowd this time, he wouldn’t find that familiar mop of black hair, hidden underneath a heavy hood; dark eyes disappearing behind a purple mask.

Climbing down from the stage, Lance went looking for Pidge. He found them standing next to the Green Lion, partially shadowed under Hunk’s towering figure. They gesticulated towards a small object nested between their hands, a silver glint escaping through their fingers. Whatever it was, it brought a frown to Hunk’s forehead; thick eyebrows knotting together.

“I don’t know, Pidge. Is this really a good idea?”

Lance heard Hunk asking as he grew closer, a fickle quality to his voice. Pidge simply stared back at him, throwing their head back in order to meet his eyes.

“It’s the only way to make sure he won’t hurt anyone, Hunk.” they said fiercely, voice dropping a few octaves as they continued. “You saw what Romelle was capable of doing. She almost killed Lance. If Keith’s like her, then who knows what he might do once we find him.”

“I know, but still…” Hunk sighed, crestfallen. “Keith’s our friend. “

“It’s the only way, Hunk.”

“What about Lance? Have you talked to him about all of this?” Hunk asked. Even from afar, Lance was still able to see Pidge wrinkling their nose at Hunk’s tone.

“I — Well, kind of… I —”

“What about me?”

The words left Lance’s mouth before he was able to contain them, tongue rolling with an ease he’d forgotten he possessed. His boots kicked gravel as he gave another step forward, a small cloud of dust gathering around his feet. The noise was enough to spin their heads around, eyes meeting in stunned silence. Lance noticed the way Pidge’s lips fell shut, how Hunk’s shoulders slumped at the sight of him.

He looked from Pidge to Hunk, eyes narrowed into a pair of thin slits.

“What are you guys talking about?” he asked, a wariness etched to his every word. Hunk sent Pidge a pointed look, raising a single eyebrow expectantly. Lance followed his line of sight. “Well? Are you gonna explain to me what is going on?”

Pidge mumbled something unintelligible under their breath, chest deflating as a heavy puff of air was expelled from their lungs.

“I know why you’re acting strange. I figured it out that night on the roof.” they said. “We both know.”

Lance’s eyes found Hunk as the words left Pidge’s mouth, dressed in his paladin armor, standing only a couple inches to the side, face solemn and hands curled into fists before his chest. A thin layer of red seemed to cover his face; eyes almost apologetic as they met his.

“You do?” Lance exhaled, furrowing his brows.

“It’s okay, Lance.” Hunk said, soft and low. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Lance’s frown deepened, confusion sinking further.

“We made you something.”

Pidge moved past Hunk, extending their hand forward. Uncurling their fingers slowly, one by one, they unveiled a silver vial. It was a strange hybrid between a syringe and a small pistol. Lance reached for it tentatively, long fingers wrapping around the alien object. It barely weighted anything as he raised it towards his face, taking a closer look at the sparkling blue liquid swirling inside.

“What is this?” he asked.

“It’s a contingency plan.” Pidge said. “Just in case Keith is not… You know, _Keith_.”

Lance could feel his eyes widening as Pidge’s words sank in, fingers curling tighter around the vial.

“You want me to… What? Inject Keith with this?” Pidge didn’t say anything. But Lance didn’t really need them to. The expression written across their face was enough. “Are you out of your damn mind? Pidge, I can’t do this. I can’t… This is…”

“You’re the only one who can!” Pidge said, effectively cutting him. Lance shook his head, adamant. “Lance, just listen, okay? Shiro will be busy commanding the Atlas and the rest of us will be trying to hold off the Alteans under Haggar’s control. And you… You’re going after Keith, aren’t you?”

Lance could feel the tension building inside him, a painful ebb and flow at the base of his stomach. An invisible chain bounding his hands together. Claws digging deep in his calves, pulling him under.

“I — Yeah.” Lance mumbled, self-conscious. “I am.”

“It’s just in case, buddy.” Hunk pitched in, hand coming to rest on Lance’s shoulder. “We don’t want either of you to end up getting hurt.”

Lance nodded, eyes on the vial nested on his palm.

“You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. We just… We thought since you and Keith are —”

“I can do this.” Lance cut in, burying the vial in a hidden compartment in his armor. “Just in case, right?”

Neither Pidge nor Hunk had the heart to refuse him, but the truth was written all over their faces. Lance felt the familiar sensation of having fingers around his throat, making it harder to breathe. Hunk sent him a comforting smile, giving a light squeeze to his shoulder.

“Go get him, man.”

Lance was the first to step away when Allura’s voice sparked through their communicators, telling them to go to their Lions. He didn’t look back at Pidge and Hunk, eyes on the floor as he dragged his feet across the arid desert. The vial somehow seemed to weight heavier with each step he took.

* * *

 

Lance thought it would feel different to come to space after such a long time back on Earth. But nothing had changed since the last time he’s been there. The effervescent glow of the stars continued to lit a particular fire in his chest, the never-ending darkness causing his mind to travel to unknown scenarios of planets never seen and creatures never heard. He was reminded of the last couple of years spent out there, defending the universe, fighting Zarkon and the Galra.

He could practically hear Allura’s voice in his ears, as clear as the moment she spoke the words for the first time, shortly after their exit from Earth’s solar system.

“Today, we end this war.” she had said, her face filling the screen that had popped up above the control panel. She was painted a luminous shade of blue and Lance couldn’t help but notice how it matched the color of her eyes. “Today, we return peace to the universe.”

They couldn’t form Voltron without Keith to pilot the Black Lion, but it hardly seemed to matter at this point. Piloting Red once again across the endless void stirred a strange sense of _déjà vu_ in Lance as he relived some of his oldest memories, realizing with a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach how long it’s been since then.

He had muted his communicator line a while ago, silently following Lotor’s instructions. Pidge and Hunk’s idle conversation served as background noise, providing some semblance of normalcy. Every once in a while, he’d bring a hand to his belt, where he’d put away Pidge’s latest concoction, only to make sure the vial was still there. It was altogether comforting and revolting.

 _Just in case_ , Lance reminded himself.

“Okay, everyone, get ready. According to Lotor’s coordinates we should be close to Haggar’s position.” Allura said through the comms.

“That is, if he’s telling the truth.”

“You’ll see soon enough, green paladin.” Lotor’s voice came through the speakers, earning another low grumble from Pidge.

The communication lines grew heavy with static the closer they got to Haggar’s supposed location, matted and barely understandable. Lance felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought of not being able to talk to the rest of his team, but his fears were quickly silenced as Allura’s face appeared in a flash before his control panel. Behind her, Lance could get a glimpse of Lotor, the purple tone of his skin muted under the blue lights.

“So,” Pidge began, joining the rest of them. “How are we gonna do this?”

“You and Hunk will remain here, acting as a distraction while Lance and I go in there.” Allura explained, eyes trained forward, resolute. “He’ll go after Keith and I’ll deal with Haggar.”

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” came Hunk’s voice, face popping in a yellow screen right next to Allura’s. “I mean, we won’t be able to form Voltron this time. What if they have more of those robeasts? We can’t fight them with just our Lions.”

“That’s where Shiro comes in.” Allura said, matter-of-fact. “The Atlas will have our backs. I spoke to him and Coran earlier, they said they’re good to go. So, are you guys ready?”

There was a unison response from both Hunk and Pidge. A beat and a sigh later, Lance turned his communication line on again, voice coming through the speakers with far more confidence than he actually possessed.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” he said.

“Good. Acxa will meet you down there, so don’t move until she arrives.” Allura barked what sounded like an order and Lance fought against the urge to roll his eyes at her. “She’s the only one who knows the inside of that ship other than Lotor. So, wait for her. Do you hear me, Lance?”

“Yes, princess, I hear you.” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

A loud groan and then Pidge’s voice, muffled under the interference running through their system, but somehow still recognizable.

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Lance parted his lips to reply, but Pidge never gave him the chance. “Oh, right, I remember now. It’s because we’re putting our blind faith in the same people that betrayed us before.”

“Pidge, we’ve talked about this.”

“Allura is right.” Lance said, growing restless as he sat in his chair, a fire eager to burn. He could feel Red’s impatience flaring alongside his own. “It’s too late to back out now. We’re doing this for Keith, remember? He’s counting on us.”

Lance moved then, as Red purred inside his chest, telling him to _go, go, go._ Starlight poured down on him, tiny sparkling dots painting diamond freckles across bronze skin. Gazing outside, he saw the sleek lines of a vessel, unmistakable under the colorful hues of countless celestial bodies, drifting alongside the dust left behind by wayward comets.

Lance’s eyes widened at the sight, grip tightening. With his hands around the controls, he dived into the abyss. With any luck, he wouldn’t be too late.

* * *

 

Red weaved seamlessly through waves of enemy fire as shots were aimed at them, one after the other. On and on. Lance barely managed to escape a laser beam from scratching the painting off of Red’s back, cringing at the mere thought of being hit. Without Voltron, they couldn’t afford to make mistakes. Not now. Not when they were _so close_.

_“Lance, do you copy?”_

Lance startled at the sound of Veronica’s voice erupting through his helmet. For a moment, he was able to tune out the war-like noises coming from outside; endless explosions lighting up the darkness as a fleet of Altean ships mercilessly bombarded them. They were relentless in their movements, swarming around the Lions in waves.

“Veronica? How did you —”

_“That’s not important! How long until you can get to the ship?”_

“I’m not sure…” Lance said, trailing off just in time to dodge another laser beam. He sent a silent apology to Red, who purred in response. “A couple ticks, I guess. I just need to get those ships away from my tail.”

 _“Well,”_ Veronica began after clearing her throat, voice wavering, partially swallowed by static. _“You better hurry because we’re almost there.”_

Lance frowned at the hidden meaning behind Veronica’s words, stomach coiling as realization flooded his insides.

“ _We_? What do you mean we, Veronica?”

There was no immediate response and for a moment Lance feared the signal had been lost to interference once again. Red’s purrs, calming and reassuring, echoed inside his head. Her presence was comforting, warming him up from the inside out.

 _“Just… Hurry up, Lance.”_ Veronica said at last, barely understandable before being abruptly cut off.

With a sigh, Lance pulled at Red’s controls, urging them to move down. Eyes intent on the vessel stationed just underneath them, shielded behind a hive of smaller ships; sleek, dark metal glinting under the glow of the stars.

Lance sighed, resting a hand gently on top of the panel. He felt Red’s presence consume him, flames licking the ice from his veins.

“Let’s do this, girl.”

Lance wove expertly between Altean ships, as explosions painted the sky behind him in splendid colors. Red was moving fast. Faster than Lance could ever remember her moving. He could feel her restlessness, her ravenous desire to find Keith, to protect him. He might no longer be her paladin, but the bond between the two of them was still strong. Absently, Lance picked up on Blue’s energy, dimming with the distance, but still _there._

“Guys, I think I’ve found an opening.” Lance said, maneuvering Red through the hole he had carved in the Altean fleet. “I’m going in.”

He could hear the frantic beat of his heart as he went down, down, down. Pidge’s distant groan as they were nearly hit by another round of fire. Hunk’s urgency as he rushed towards them. And then, Allura’s voice, somehow still calm as chaos reigned.

“Lance, please, be careful.” she said, a note of warning in her tone. “Remember what I said, okay? Wait for Acxa. Don’t go in there alone.”

“I won’t.” he said, pulling at the controls to go faster, descending further into the fray. “Trust me.”

Lance practically plunged from Red’s open mouth as they landed on the outer side of the ship’s left wing, piercing a hole into one of its thick, metal walls with a fire beam. Pulling out his bayard with one hand, Lance reached for his helmet with the other, tapping once at the communication line.

“Veronica? Are you there? Where are you?”

There was a shuffling noise, shallow breathing drowned under the persistent echoes of gunfire. Lance tensed at the familiarity of that sound, at what it meant.

“Veronica?”

 _“We’re on our way.”_ she said, panting hard on the other end of the line. _“We already have visual on the Red Lion. Stay where you are, Lance. Don’t you dare to move!”_

“I won’t!” he grumbled inside his helmet, ignoring the wave of relief that washed over him at the sound of his sister’s voice.

He planted his feet on the pristine floor, next to Red’s open jaw. In his peripheral, Lance caught sight of two Altean soldiers turning around a corner, their eyes meeting in stunned silence. Time suspended as Lance raised his bayard, feeling the familiar weight of his rifle as a flare of light swallowed both of his hands.

Lance took aim and fired, both soldiers falling in quick succession across the now empty corridor. All around him, the ship came alive in bursts of searing red. An alarm resounded in Lance’s ears in rapid intervals, a staccato tune hammering against the walls of his skull, impossibly loud. In a fit of rage, he unclasped the helmet from his head, throwing it far away.

“- ance!”

“Lance!”

“ _Lance_!”

Lance felt something heavy landing on his waist, a steady pressure digging deep into his ribs, where the armor didn’t cover his body, exposed but for his paladin under suit. Slowly, he opened his eyes, finding long and lean fingers wrapped around the middle-section of his body. He couldn’t make much of them under the heavy fabric of gloves and he could feel his entire body stiffening at the prospect of a threat, grip tightening around the handle of his bayard.

But then came a voice. Soft and feminine, muffled under the constant ringing inside his ears. And, yet, strangely intimate.

“Lance, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Lifting his eyes, he found himself staring into a mirror. Dark, blue eyes and natural bronze skin framed behind thick, unruly brown curls. He felt like all the air had been forcibly pushed out from his lungs, chest deflating little by little under a warm, human touch.

Veronica’s touch.

“Ronnie…” Lance’s voice came out in a strangled exhale, fingers curling around his sister’s wrist, seeking for something solid to lean on. “You’re here.”

She opened a smile, but it barely touched her cheeks. Lance blinked, eyes straying from Veronica to the dark figure standing at her other side. Acxa gave him a firm nod of her head, face contorted in what appeared to be a permanent scowl. She had both hands occupied, each of them holding what looked like twin knifes, blades sharp enough to be made of luxite.

Lance swallowed thickly, eyes darting once again towards his sister.

“You’re _here_.” he echoed his own words, a slow frown taking shape between his brows. “Veronica, what are you doing here? You were supposed to stay in the Atlas!”

“Did you honestly expect me to leave my little brother alone to fight against an evil alien witch? Give me some credit, Lance.” she said, rolling her eyes. There was a dramatic flair to her every gesture and Lance felt his lips tremble with the urge to smile. “Besides, I’m not here just for you.”

Lance tilted his head slightly to the side, regarding Veronica with new-found interest. He stole a furtive glance at Acxa and was transported back to the Lions’ hangar, his sister’s voice no more than distant echoes in the back of his mind, foreign and dream-like.

“We should move out. It’s not safe here.” Acxa abruptly cut in, sending a wary look over her shoulder. “They’ll be sending reinforcements soon.”

Lance nodded, disentangling himself from Veronica.

“Where do they keep prisoners?” he asked, hit with a fiery determination.

“Follow me.”

Acxa spared him a quick glance before moving past him, armor clacking as their shoulders brushed together. She guided them down the dimly lit corridor, careful not to step on one of the fallen Alteans. A silent soldier, a deadly threat. Lance couldn’t help but compare Acxa to a large feline, moving with a particular grace that masked the danger laying underneath that beautiful façade.

They didn’t come across any soldiers on the way down to the prison cells. Luck or divine intervention, whichever was the case, Lance was grateful. The blaring sound of the alarms had all but faded from Lance’s ears, swallowed under the frantic beat of his heart, blood pumping at an alarmingly fast pace.

He was close.

He was _so close_.

“Which one?” Lance asked once they stopped before the row of holding cells, flanked on either side by countless doors, each of them just as equally bland as the other. When Acxa didn’t respond, he turned to face her. There was an edge to his voice, flecked with an emotion that wasn’t there before. “Which one, Acxa?”

Lance caught movement underneath her jaw, the muscles on her face tensing and relaxing. She looked from side to side, stopping before one of the doors. Lance had opened his mouth to press further, to try to extract an answer from her, but Acxa managed to silence him with nothing but a sigh.

“Here.” she said. “It’s this one.”

Lance stood behind Acxa, rifle raised. Slowly, his finger curled around the trigger, cold metal grazing his chin, the scent of gunpowder invading his nostrils.

“Move.” he gritted out, sharp and curt.

Acxa stepped aside, giving Lance a clean shot at the door. He emptied his mind of any lingering thoughts, focusing solely on the locking mechanism etched on the wall. He took aim, inhaling deeply before pulling the trigger. A moment later, the door was bursting open, sparks flying from its remains.

Lance was the first to move, hurling himself inside the dark cell and waving a hand before his face in an attempt to clear the smoke clouding his vision. He could hear footsteps as Acxa and Veronica trailed behind him, the erratic sound of his shallow breathing, the distant echoes of an alarm.

But nothing else.

“Keith?” he called as he walked amongst the shadows. “Keith?”

Nothing.

There was no response, no signs of anyone else behind those four walls other than the three of them. Lance’s frown deepened, hands running blindly down those sleek walls, boots colliding against metal floors. _Empty_ , came the realization, like a punch to the gut, sharp and painful.

The cell was empty.

“Lance…”

Lance turned around at the sound of Veronica’s voice, shaky and faded. She had put her gun away, replacing it with a small lantern. A yellow halo of light painted a circular patch across the floor, uncovering a dark mark imprinted there. Lowering to his knees, Lance was close enough to touch the strange markings. They appeared black under the glow of the lantern, but as he brought two of his fingers for closer inspection, he saw the markings for what they truly were.

His breath got caught at the base of his throat.

“That’s blood.”

 _Keith’s blood_ , he added inwardly, watching as that dark shade of red stained the tip of his gloves.

“Is that Keith’s?” Veronica asked, voice no louder than a whisper, almost hesitant to bring out the possibility.

“They must have taken him to Haggar.” Acxa provided. “They used to take him there every day, to a room at the end of this corridor.”

Lance lifted his eyes to meet Acxa and his voice escaped unattended past his mouth, small and weak and not meant to be heard.

“No, no, no…”

Fear tugged at Lance’s heart, poisonous tendrils of smoke swirling inside his chest. He propelled himself upwards in one swift motion, hand gripping his bayard with more force than necessary; fingers aching with the longing to touch something solid, something real, something that made him forget about empty cells and blood stains.

Lance opened his mouth, only to shut it close a heartbeat later. He barely had any time to dwell on the fact that Keith was not there when he heard the unmistakable echo of footsteps, hurried and fast approaching, reverberating down the corridor.

“Do you hear that?” Veronica whispered, looking from Lance to Acxa.

Silently, carefully, Acxa crossed the room, peering through the hole Lance had carved into the cell’s door, no more than scorched scraps of metal now.

“It’s the Alteans. They’ve found us.” Acxa hissed, eyes never leaving the long expanse of the corridor outside.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Veronica muttered, replacing the lantern in her hand with a gun similar to Lance’s, if only somewhat smaller. A curtain of darkness fell above them, the only light coming from the purple-lit corridor. “What do we do now?”

“We fight.” Acxa said, matter-of-fact. Veronica snapped her head back at her.

“Are you crazy? Can’t you hear them? We’re clearly outnumbered.” she spat out the words. Acxa didn’t so much as flinch. “We should contact the Atlas and call for reinforcements.”

“There’s no time.” Acxa retorted, shaking her head. “The odds may not be on our favor, but what other choice do we have?”

With a strangled groan, Veroncia turned to Lance. A silent plea shone in her dark eyes; lips pursed in a thin line. He wished the words weighting on his tongue weren’t so heavy. He wished they had more time, more options, _more_. He wished, wished, wished. But his dreams never once came true, so why would it be any different this time?

“Acxa is right. We have no choice.” Lance said, averting his gaze as the expression on her face crumbled to dust. “Acxa, Veronica and I will cover for you. Get ready.”

Lance exchanged a quick glance with Acxa, a shadow by the door as her body was swallowed by an absolute blackness. Her eyes were the only visible part of her, gleaming in the dark, dangerous and cat-like.

Lance sent a sidelong glance at Veronica, brief and subtle, before following Acxa into the corridor.

Acxa’s movements were quick and precise, a predatory grace to them. It was easy to lose himself to the deadly dance she performed, slashing through the horde of Altean guards with ease, calm and collected as she painted the walls a deep scarlet. Lance and Veronica lagged behind, landing shot after shot on the steady flow of soldiers coursing down the corridor. They all fell to his knees, one by one. Bleeding and broken. Unable to carry on their attack.

“There’s too many of them.” Veronica said, loud enough to be heard despite the loud clash of blades and the rumble of gunfire. “We won’t be able to hold them off for much longer if they keep coming.”

Lance watched as another Altean fell to Acxa’s feet, a scorch mark to the chest plate of his armor. With his rifle raised high, Lance side-eyed Veronica, shoulders brushing together as they moved across the narrow corridor.

“Fuck…” he cursed under his breath, firing another shot. Another Altean down. “Call Shiro. Tell him we need help down here.”

Veronica nodded once, hand raising to the communicator device behind her ear. Lance had averted his eyes from battle, covering Veronica from an Altean who had come too close, too fast. It lasted a second, but it was long enough for another guard to surprise him from behind, eyes void and lifeless as he marched towards him, brandishing a sharp, long sword.

He was close. Too close for Lance to use his rifle. The Altean raised his blade, drawing a wide circle in the air before coming down, fast and unforgiving.

“Lance, watch out!”

He had no time to react. With his arms raised before his face, Lance hoped the thick metal bracelets of armor would somehow soften the blow. His eyes widened a fraction, drinking in the menacing glint of the blade, before falling closed as he braced for impact.

And then —

Nothing.

With his breath still lodged in his throat, Lance peered behind his lashes, bile threatening to rise as confusion twisted knots in his stomach.

The Altean stumbled backwards, sword clattering to the floor as it slipped free from his hands. There was an ugly gash in the side of his neck, deep enough to break through the thick material of his under suit. Rivulets of blood trailed down his armor, escaping from between his fingers.

Lance didn’t so much as blink as the Altean collapsed against the nearest wall with a loud thud, eyes falling shut as the life was drained from him.

“Acxa?”

At the sound of Veronica’s voice, Lance felt the tell-tale pull from reality. Time no longer stood frozen, his feet no longer floated above the ground. And when Veronica called for Acxa yet again, harder than before, Lance felt an uncomfortable prickling sensation crawl underneath his skin.

He hadn’t noticed the figure standing in his periphery, clad in darkness, just on the outskirts of his line of sight. It took him a moment, but as the figure turned, languish in its movements, Lance recognized Acxa. Blue-tinted skin, jet-black hair and cat-like eyes, devoid of their usual glow.

“Acxa?” his voice came in the form of a whisper.

Acxa groaned in pain, a hand pressing down against her ribs as blood dripped from her gloved fingers, painting her armor in a sickening shade of red. Her other hand still held firmly to one of the blades, but her body was assaulted by terrible tremors, strong enough to loosen her grip around the hilt of the knife, falling at her feet.

She lost her balance, colliding against Lance’s chest, body melting in his arms. Another low groan escaped her lips, eyes lidded and strangely opaque.

“Acxa, are you —”

“I’m fine.” She grumbled, effectively cutting him. Lance felt his own balance wavering under the weight of her body, the pristine white of his paladin armor smeared with her blood. “I — I’ll be fine. But you need to g — go.”

“What?”

Behind them, Lance heard the sounds of shots being fired in rapid succession as Veronica sent another Altean to the ground, then another, and another. He felt his chest tightening, ribs constricting around his lungs.

“You have to go.” Acxa said, breathing hard. A thin strip of blood trailed down the corner of her mouth, dripping from her chin. “K — Keith needs you. You have to — You have to go, Lance.”

Lance simply stared back at her, unblinking.

“But what about you? I can’t leave you and Veronica alone.”

“I’ll be f — fine.” she insisted, doing a poorly convincing job when her voice broke as a cough tore through her throat. “Just… Go.”

Lance heard steps approaching him from behind and then Veronica was filling his vision, limbs flailing and hair a disheveled mess, curly strands falling before her forehead. Her hands came to rest on Acxa’s cheeks, eyes searching her face frantically.

“Ronnie, what are you doing here? The guards —”

“I took care of them.” she said quickly, panting hard. Sweat trickled from her temples, her chest heaving with shallow breaths. “We have some time before more of them come and find us.”

Veronica lifted her head to meet Lance’s gaze, a storm swirling in her eyes, terror flaring behind her glasses.

“What happened?” she asked, voice wavering with barely concealed panic.

Lance parted his lips to respond, ribs squeezing around his heart as he saw the shadows take hold of Veronica’s face, lines pulled taut in pain-stricken fear.

“Acxa saved me.” Lance said, lips trembling. “I didn’t see the Altean until it was too late and she — She saved me.”

Veronica’s eyes landed on Acxa, awe-struck. She had her mouth hanging open, soundless as she stared down at her.

“You — You saved him?”

Acxa lifted her eyes slowly, languish.

“It doesn’t matter.” she murmured, shaking her head. Her nails dug into Lance’s arms, where the armor didn’t offer cover. It was meant to be painful, but at her current state it was barely a scratch. There was a raw desperation tainting her voice when she spoke again. “You need to go.”

“But you and Veronica —”

“We’ll be fine.” Veronica said, cutting Lance short. “You need to go to Keith. He needs you. I’ll stay here with Acxa.”

“What if they send more guards?”

Veronica placed a hand on Lance’s cheek, thumbs brushing some of the light freckles littered there, just underneath his eyes. She leaned forward to press a gentle kiss on his forehead, the storm gone from her eyes and her voice impossibly soft as she spoke again.

“Go, Lance.” she said, holding his gaze captive. He was unable to look away. “I already talked to Shiro. They’re on their way here. We’ll be fine, I promise.”

Lance had his hands forcefully pulled away from Acxa’s body, quickly replaced by Veronica’s gentle touch as she cradled her in her arms. He met his sister’s gaze once more, diving into the dark waves inside those irises, warm and alluring. Some strange voice called to him, from the depths of the ocean.

 _Go_ , it seemed to whisper, _find him._

And, so, he went.

* * *

 

Lance couldn’t remember which corners he had turned, until he came to an abrupt stop before a pair of tall, imposing doors. Just as Acxa instructed him there would be. He swallowed the knot lodged in his throat with difficulty, blood still singing in his ears, pumping fast from the thrill of battle, fueled on adrenaline. He felt sick and tired. His body was entirely made of pain, nerve endings flaring bright, sending jolts of electricity down his aching limbs.

Lance had his rifle raised, finger on the trigger, taking aim. But before he had the chance to fire the shot, the doors to Haggar’s torture chambers opened seamlessly. Lance simply stood there, frowning at the dark interior, unsure what to do next. It was clearly a trap, but then what other choice did he have? Keith was in there and Lance refused to leave him to rot in that dreadful place any longer.

As soon as he stepped inside, the doors slid closed at his back. Lance looked over his shoulder, startled by the noise. But he found only empty space. He took another step forward, inhaling through the nose and exhaling through the mouth; a desperate attempt to calm his rapid heartbeat.

The room was poorly lit, corners swallowed whole by shadows, but Lance was still able to discern the dull purples and matted grays covering the walls and floors. His footsteps resonated in that cavernous space, tuning out everything else.

In the darkness, Lance caught sight of something.

 _Someone_ , corrected his brain as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light and he was finally able to make out a silhouette.

The faceless figure took a step forward, then another, slowly taking form. Darkness seemed to bleed out from him with each calculated gesture, as if he was one with the shadows, all blurry edges and hazy details. Unreachable and unknowable.

The walls rumbled with the sound of laughter, deep and sharp. Lance stiffened at the roughness of that voice, but his eyes never left the shadowed figure before him. In the distance, he could hear the sirens still ringing, the faint red-ish glow of the lights filtering through the crevices underneath the doors.

_“Come closer, paladin.”_

The voice called, beckoning him to move forward. Lance tried to pin-point where it came from, but it was impossible to know. It came from everywhere, sprouting from every wall around him, reverberating through the floors.

“Show yourself, Haggar!” Lance spoke up, fingers becoming rigid from the strain of holding the barrel of his rifle for so long. “Or are you too afraid to face me?”

Invisible spiders crawled down the nape of his neck, ice seeping under his skin as another laughter reached his ears. The sound was like breaking glass, tearing its way down her throat.

_“I have other plans for you, red paladin.”_

Lance narrowed his eyes at Haggar’s voice, a frown carved between his brows.

From the corner of his eye, Lance caught a flicker of movement as the silent figure stepped away from the shadows that encompassed him, bathing himself in the dim light of the room, face painted in blue and violet hues.

And Lance watched as his entire world turned upside down, blown off-kilter by a strong gust of wind. He felt like breaking again, a deep-rooted ache in his bones, poison in his blood. Was he awake? It felt like a dream. It tasted like a nightmare, too much to take in all at once.

Lance blinked away the surprise. But he was still _there_ , staring back at him with those deeply disconcerting eyes.

Keith was _there_.

Fear coursed through his veins, as thick as blood, turning his body into a strange combination between paralyzed limbs and numb nerves. His eyes were open wide, unblinking, intent on the sight of Keith. The _real_ Keith, not a figment from his imagination or an elaborate creature inhabiting his dreams.

All he could see was Keith. Solid and real on the other side of that room.

Thoughts reeled at the sight of him. At the soft undulations of his chest as he breathed in and out. How the lights of the ship would swallow half of his face in a purple glow, sharpening the angles of his cheekbones, borrowing the starlit glaze of his eyes. How much he had changed and yet still managed to remain the same. How the world outside burned in explosions of red and gold against his skin. He looked like a god, bathed in heavenly fire.

“Keith?” the name stumbled from his mouth, careless.

Keith smiled.

His skin was paler than Lance recalled. But his hair was still the color of midnight, falling unruly around his eyes, spidery legs crawling the porcelain surface of his skin. His eyes were still the color of the night sky, the light of the stars reflected on them.

He was beautiful, just as Lance remembered.

“Did you miss me, Lance?” Keith’s voice was like shards of glass piercing through Lance’s chest, straight to his heart. “It took you so long to get here, I thought you might have forgotten about me.”

Lance swallowed thickly, taking a step back, driven solely on instinct. Something was off about the way Keith spoke, an odd lilt in his voice tone. Lance’s mind screamed with warning signs that read _danger_ , _danger_ , _danger._

A spark of amusement crossed Keith’s face, eyes gleaming dangerously. Only then did Lance notice the strange armor Keith was wearing; dark and sleek, all jagged edges and smooth surfaces. He had his fingers wrapped around the hilt of a sword, long and broad and terribly similar to the one Lance had seen being yielded by the Altean guards he’d fought earlier.

A laughter echoed in the room, and, for a moment, Lance thought it was Haggar again. But the noise had come from Keith’s parted lips, erupting from his throat. A backwards sound, corrupted. And when Lance looked into his eyes, he felt his breath getting caught in his throat.

Dark and devoid of any real emotion.

 _That’s_ _not Keith_ , Lance thought, stomach sinking at the somber realization.

“What’s the matter, sharpshooter? Are you afraid of me?”

Lance’s first thought was to run. Run as far away as possible from the raven-haired boy standing there before him. But his body refused to obey, his legs broken. His mind drifted to a dangerous trail of thoughts, replaying the scenarios born from his nightmares in a sick, endless loop.

He felt like a spectator, watching from afar as the scene unfolded before his eyes. Keith’s cruel laughter wouldn’t stop playing in his ears, like a broken record. Needles prickled his skin, allowing the cold to slip inside, freezing the blood running in his veins.

“Keith, what are you —” Lance stopped midsentence, eyes catching the slight curl of Keith’s lips. “Keith?”

His voice faded into an eerie silence, crushed under the sound of Keith’s boots as he moved. Slow and predatory, circling Lance as if he was his prey.

 _Maybe I am_ , Lance thought somberly.

“Come on, Lance. Let’s finish what we started at the Garrison.” Keith said, smile still in place. Lance cringed, trying to mask the flinch of his shoulders, but if Keith’s laugh was any indication of his attempts then he must have failed. “I’m curious…”

“About what?”

“Which one of us do you think would win in a sword fight?” Lance gritted his teeth to avoid a bitter retort. _That’s not Keith_ , he repeated to himself. Keith hummed, thoughtful. “What? You have nothing to say? That’s a first.”

Lance shook his head.

“We both know who would win.”

“Are you sure?” Keith asked, tilting his head in a lupine manner, eyes flashing with untold promises of pain.

“Keith, stop. That’s not who you are.” Lance said, refusing to take another step backwards. “You don’t wanna fight me. We’re friends, remember? You said so yourself.”

“Are we? Really?”

“Yes.” Lance said, firm and unrelenting. “You’re Keith Kogane, best pilot of our generation. Paladin of the Black Lion, leader of Voltron and my friend.”

A pause. A sharp intake of breath.

“I know you, Keith.”

Lance forced the words out, watching as they dissolved before reaching Keith’s ears, taken apart by the wind, not strong enough to break through the invisible barriers built around Keith’s mind.

“Everybody thinks they know me, until they don’t.” Keith said, voice falling flat as he took another step, then another, fingers running down the sharp edge of a blade. His eyes were a bottomless black. “You’re no different, Lance.”

“Keith —”

But whatever Lance was about to say died on his tongue as Keith pulled his sword, aiming the sharp tip at his throat with frightening precision. Lance held his breath, eyes falling to the blade resting only millimeters away from his neck. It was a threat and a warning. And as his eyes met Keith’s, he was met once again with a dreadful emptiness.

“You talk too much. Has anyone ever told you that?” Keith said, sounding annoyed. “You know, I used to dream about you. A lot. Every night I would come back to my cell after being tortured for hours on end and I’d dream of you.”

Keith circled Lance, eyeing him with a calculated wariness. Fingers steady around the hilt of the blade, unflinching. Lance did nothing except watch, as he’s been doing all his life.

“I’d dream of your blue eyes and your annoying laughter. Day after day. And then I’d wake up to an empty cell. I hated it.” he continued, a far-off quality to his voice. “I hated that you were never there. I hated that you were never real. I hated _you_.”

Branches and thorns bloomed from his lungs, crawling up his throat, smothering him. He felt like he was bleeding from the inside out. The pain was a raw, suffocating thing. Branches and thorns and wasps buzzing in his chest.

“Keith, please —”

He tried again.

He failed again.

Keith moved fast. Too fast for Lance’s eyes to follow the elegant work of his feet, utterly silent as he plunged into his space. Ruthless and vicious. A wild animal baring its teeth, a deep growl escaping his throat as he pressed that thin blade against Lance’s neck.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.” he said, cold and detached.

 “Because I’m here now.” Lance said, eyes intent on Keith. “Because I’m real.”

The words fell from his lips like the leaves of trees during winter. Helplessly, gently. As it was always meant to be.

A heartbeat, loud and hard.

A blast of another explosion outside, oranges and reds blurring together, painting flames across Keith’s face.

Cold steel no longer pressed against fragile skin.

And, suddenly, Lance could breathe again.

A glint of something sparked in Keith’s eyes and then Lance was brought to his knees, pain sprouting from his side where he’d been hit with a merciless, agile blow. It knocked the air from his lungs and painted his vision with dark spots. Iron and salt danced on his tongue and he spat blood on the floor, at Keith’s feet.

“K — Keith, stop.” Lance croaked out, words dying on his lips as Keith grabbed his chin between his fingers, hard enough to leave blossoming bruises behind.

“Get up and fight.” Keith’s voice was ice, serpentine venom dripping from each syllable. “Or is this all you can do? Beg for your life?”

“I don’t wanna fight you, Keith.”

“You’re pathetic.” he hissed, landing another punch in two of Lance’s ribs and sending him skidding down the floor. “You’re no defender of the universe. You’re _nothing_.”

Groaning, Lance managed to propel himself into a sitting position, bayard pointed at Keith. His fingers trembled, too unsteady to pull the trigger. Keith came to a halt, lips curling into a crooked smile.

“Do it, Lance.” he said. Then, louder. “Do it. Pull the trigger. Shoot me.”

“I don’t wanna fight you.” Lance parroted, terribly aware of Pidge’s concoction pressing against his side. “But I will if it means it’ll bring the real Keith back.”

Keith laughed, sprung out from one of Lance’s nightmares. Sharp, wicked. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

“I _am_ the real Keith.”

A humorless chuckle escaped Lance’s mouth, unbidden.

“No, you’re not.”

Lance didn’t give Keith any time to ponder over his words before he had him pinned down to the floor, straddling him into submission. Keith’s body was warm under his touch, their faces hovering only inches apart. Lance was struck with a strange sense of _déjà vu_. They both had been in a similar position once, back at the Garrison. It had not been so long ago, but it felt like a small eternity had passed since.

A flare of light illuminated the room for quick, blinding seconds as Lance’s bayard changed form. A heavy Altean broadsword was now carefully sheathed between his fingers, blade glazing against the side of Keith’s neck.

“The real Keith wouldn’t let me overthrow him like this.” Lance said, panting from the effort.

Keith didn’t waver under Lance’s vicious hold, at the mercy of those stormy blue eyes. He smiled at him defiantly. Something dark and alien crossed his features, shadows distorting the smooth planes of his face as flames danced outside. Keith’s limbs were calm and fluid as he dug the hilt of his sword against Lance’s chest plate, hard enough to tear its clean surface in half, deep fissures crawling on both sides.

He used Lance’s momentary distraction to propel himself forward, blades clashing together. Lance felt his bones rattling from impact, gritting his teeth until the pain was nothing but a dull memory. Lightning and thunder. A storm brewing near. Keith’s smile overtook half of his face, a row of white teeth and a pair of sharp canines.

Lance let out a low groan, struggling to meet Keith’s ruthless blows. He trembled, unsteady, knees slowly giving out beneath him. Keith didn’t stop. He didn’t crumble. He didn’t break. He was an unstoppable force, relentless in his movements. Deadly and ferocious. He was terror personified.

Lance knew he was a stranger in Keith’s eyes. Prey. Weak. He knew his chances of survival were few, that he was merely delaying the inevitable. Keith was a born fighter, his sword an extension of his own body.

He couldn’t shake the feel of dread taking root inside his chest, overwhelming and all-encompassing.

Lance deflected another one of Keith’s blows, sword drawing a wide arc in the air, only barely missing his armor. He had no time to react, crying in pain when Keith’s blade cut a deep gash across his thigh, blood oozing from the open wound. Staggering on his feet, Lance nearly collapsed against a wall. Flames licked down his arm, where Keith had landed yet another blow, blade sinking deep into flesh.

Fire shot down his arm, engulfing his fingers in terrible tremors. Lance dropped the sword, groaning out in pain. The echo of steel clattering against the floor was drowned under the loud pounding of his heart, the dooming certainty of his demise.

And then he found himself pressed against a hard surface, cold touching the exposed skin on the nape of his neck. Keith hovered above him like a dark cloud, a storm breaking at the horizon. Eyes empty, teeth sharp. Lance could feel as blood trailed down the slope of his neck in the form of a lonely ruby tear.

Lance flinched at Keith’s touch, his hand coming to rest on the side of his face. All he knew was pain. Endless amounts of poison coursing through his veins, turning his blood sour. Black and viscous.

Keith’s thumb brushed the outer corner of Lance’s mouth, smearing red across his lips and on his fingertips, painting his face a dark shade of crimson as he grazed it against his cheek. Lance smelled smoke, his tongue swimming in iron.

“Red paladin of Voltron.” Keith mused, digging the pad of his finger against a bruise blooming just below one of Lance’s eyes. He bit his lip to prevent another noise from escaping. “You’re not worthy of this title. None of you are. You’re all weak, pathetic creatures.”

“K — Keith, don’t do this…” Lance pleaded. “Please, Keith. That’s not you —”

“It is! This is me!” Keith erupted, hands shaking around the hilt of the blade.

“No, it’s not. You’re not — I know the real Keith is somewhere in there, I know he can hear me.”

Lance choked on his own breath as the blade sank deeper. Liquid warmth pooled at the base of his neck, between the bones of his clavicle. His head swam at the loss of blood, skin melting, exposing flesh and bone and pain.

So much pain.

“Shut up.” Keith gritted out. “Shut your filthy mouth.”

“What are you so afraid of?” Lance asked, the ghost of a smile haunting the edges of his mouth. It hurt. Everything hurt. “I’m right, aren’t I? Keith’s still in there. He can hear me. He can fight back.”

“I said _shut up_!”

Keith’s voice was stern, but his hands betrayed him, shaking uncontrollably. His breath came out raggedly from his open mouth, eyes glazed over and far away. Keith — the real Keith — was close, on the verge of breaking the spell cast by that evil witch. Lance could feel it. He could taste the change in the atmosphere surrounding them, negatively charged. It was almost a physical pain, the imaginary strings connecting their hearts slowly unraveling.

Lance reached out, craving touch. He let his hand fall on top of Keith’s cheek, just above the slight curve of his scar, where white complexion turned a light shade of pink. His skin was soft and incredibly warm. Lance felt his eyelids fluttering shut, lungs filling themselves with that familiar earthy scent.

He felt his stomach coil tightly, thorns and branches blooming inside, the tell-tale fluttering of tiny wings. Butterflies and wasps. It was nauseating. He could feel bile rising, a current settling down below. Calloused fingers curled around his heart. Two feet stood on a principle.

And then he was falling.

“I love you, Keith.” his voice dissolved into silence. It was less a confession and more a secret whispered in the dark. “If I’m gonna die today, then you should know how I truly feel about you. And the truth is that I love you.”

Lance opened his eyes, ever so slowly, only to find Keith staring back at him. Light flashed in his eyes and Lance watched as stars collided in the night sky confined in those round orbs. Hate was no longer dripping from his tongue, acid and vitriol replaced with stunned silence.

The knots in Keith’s knuckles loosened, fingers no longer wrapped around the hilt of his blade. The sword came tumbling down in a fast, straight line, carelessly clashing against the ground below.

Lance watched, equally silent. All he knew was the never-ending fall.

Keith blinked. Once, twice.

He pressed his thumb on the shallow cut at the base of Lance’s throat, blood pooling and seeping in the fabric of his gloves, turning darker, darker, darker. Lance bit his bottom lip to prevent a whimper, eyes never once straying from Keith’s careful movements. His eyes shone with the glow of a thousand tiny explosions, water brimming around the edges, threatening to fall.

“Keith, I know you’re still in there. I can feel it.” Lance said softly, longing for Keith’s warmth. “Come back, Keith. Come back to me.”

A single tear fell from Keith’s eye, rolling down the smooth slope of his cheekbone before finding solace just above his upper lip. Lance was plagued with the urge to lick the saltiness away. Keith choked on his own breath, lips trembling and chest heaving.

Silence.

Thick and impenetrable.

And then came a faint sound.

“L — Lance?” Keith’s voice cracked, brittle and fragile. Thumb grazing against Lance’s lower lip, eyes counting a constellation of freckles. “Lance, is that you? Are you — Are you really here?”

Lance smiled, basking in that fleeting moment of clarity. He realized with something akin to shock that the smile pulling at his lips didn’t hurt as much as before. He nodded before leaning in, foreheads touching.

“Hey, samurai.” he exhaled through parted lips, releasing a sigh. “I knew you’d come back to me.”

Something cold slid down the side of his face and it took Lance a moment to realize he was crying, saltiness invading his mouth as a steady flow of sobs wrecked his shoulders. He felt fingers on his hair, climbing up at the base of his neck until disappearing between short, brown curls; warm breath sending shivers down his spine.

 _Keith is here_ , Lance thought, feeling as though he was in the middle of a dream.

_He’s here._

_With me._

It hardly felt real. But he could touch a solid chest, smell a familiar scent. He could stargaze into those indigo eyes, brimming with unabashed emotion. If this was a dream, Lance hoped he would never feel the need to wake up.

“Lance,” Keith muttered his name in silent prayer. Over and over. “Lance. Lance, it’s you. It’s really you. You’re _here_. You’re… Real.”

“I am.”

Keith parted his lips, hand stretched out towards Lance, fingertips grazing the sides of his face.

“Lance, I —”

An agonized scream tore through Keith’s throat and he collapsed to the floor, knees bending forward as he was pulled apart at the seams by some invisible force. His voice reverberated inside Lance’s head, pain bleeding into his skull.

Lance called out his name, but Keith couldn’t hear him. He had his hands on both sides of his head, covering his ears. A stream of unintelligible noises left his mouth.

“Keith? Keith, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Haggar. She’s —” another scream broke free from his lips as a wave of tremors ran up and down his body. Blood, dark and viscous, trickled from his nose. “She’s in my h — head. She knows you’re —”

Lance stared back at Keith, eyes wide in shock as he watched him slowly fall apart.

“I’m disappointed, paladin.” voice like broken glass invaded Lance’s ears, causing the hairs at the nape of his neck to stand on end. “I expected more from you. So much wasted potential.”

Lance turned around, straying his gaze from Keith to meet the yellow glow of Haggar’s eyes. A white line cut across the lower half of her face, glinting ominously under the dim light.

“And you,” she said, tilting her head towards Lance. “It’s always you, the blue-eyed paladin. How did you do that?”

“Do what?” Lance practically spat out the words, hands curling into fists at his sides.

That’s when he felt it.

A strange, foreign presence in the back of his mind. Claws grazed his thoughts, gingerly at first, before digging deep into marrow and bone, making it impossible to move. Lance watched with growing horror as his limbs went numb, his head pried open. Vivisected. It was not a pleasant feeling. He wanted to scream, he wanted her to stop. But he could only watch as Haggar opened every door, turned every corner in the palace he had built in his mind.

Lance could feel the immediate response coming from his body. Bones bending, blood freezing in his veins. A sense of submission engulfed his fragile mind, threatening to swallow him whole. He crumbled under the weight of Haggar’s power, brought to his knees by an invisible force.

“N — No, please, no… Not him.” Keith pleaded, voice alien to Lance’s ears.

He sounded impossibly small and awfully vulnerable, reduced to a shadow of his former self.

“Let him go.” Keith groaned, struggling to pull himself upwards, sword in hand. “Get out of his head.”

The witch laughed. A raw, broken sound.

“The bond between the two of you runs deep. I can see that now.” Haggar said, looking from Keith to Lance. “I wonder if any of you would survive separation.”

From the corner of his eye, Lance could see as a wave of terror washed away Keith’s features. An impending sense of dread settled at the base of his stomach.

Lance released a short whimper when Haggar started to tear his mind to shreds, slowly being unmade. He could taste blood, teeth buried in his bottom lip to prevent another scream from escaping his sore throat.

“No! Stop, stop, please stop!” Keith cried out, voice shattering as he was brought down under the weight of Haggar’s dark magic, sword falling limp from his grip. “Let him go! Stop! Not him, please, not him.”

“I warned you, didn’t I? I told you love can bring nothing but pain.” she said, unmoved by Keith’s desperate pleas. “See, paladin. Look into his eyes and _see_. This boy, who crossed entire galaxies to find you. This boy, who will love you to death. Do you see now? His love for you was his undoing.”

“No…”

“What will happen when that love dies? What will be left of you?”

Keith groaned next to Lance, fighting against Haggar’s strong hold to no avail.

Lance wanted to reassure him. To tell him it was alright. To tell him none of it had been his fault, that he wasn’t afraid to die. At least, now he knew. He knew he had loved and had been loved in return. But Haggar’s mental claws grew longer, burying themselves in the soft tissue of his brain, tearing holes in the walls he’d built around his thoughts.

Lance parted his lips, mouth falling lax as Keith’s name escaped the confines of his chest. Strangled, raw. He screamed. Until his voice cracked, until all the seams keeping him together unraveled at last, until his throat burned and his lungs failed.

Until there was nothing but pain.

He struggled to keep his eyes open, but his eyelids felt heavy. Lance lost himself to the bottomless blue of Keith’s eyes. He counted the stars littered there, tracing every line of Keith’s face, memorizing every pale scar and every loose strand of black hair. He watched and watched and watched.

And when he allowed himself to close his eyes, Lance saw Keith’s image imprinted in the crimson of his eyelids, as if he had been made a part of him.

“Lance.” Keith sounded distant, light-years away. “Lance, open your eyes.”

Lance could feel his consciousness slipping away, memories stolen into oblivion. He tried to breathe, but his lungs remained painfully empty. Lance felt adrift in the middle of the sea, lulled by the waves as the tide took him farther away from shore.

“Lance? _Lance_!”

Keith’s screams echoed somewhere deep inside Lance, rattling his bones, running with his blood. Fear flared in his voice, unmistakable.

Keith became but a memory, a fading dream, slipping like sand through his fingers. His voice grew distant, begging him to stay. To share one last breath. To open his eyes.

But Lance could only drown.

He sank deeper into the abyss, dragged down by the vicious claws of a sea monster wrapped around his ankles. Water filled his lungs, leaving a bitter after-taste in his mouth.

 _I’m sorry_ , he wanted to say. But he couldn’t find his voice.

Invisible fingers curled around his neck and Lance gasped, desperate for air. He tried to claw those hands away from his throat, but his body remained frozen in place.

He heard Keith’s sharp inhale.

A blinding flare of white light exploding behind closed eyelids.

The sickening crack of bones breaking.

And then he was taken under the waves, where he slowly drowned, engulfed by the shadows.

“Lance!”

* * *

 

Lance never gave much thought on how he would die. It always seemed like such a distant possibility, something that awaited his white-haired, wrinkled future self. But being thrown in an intergalactic war at such a young age made him put things in a new perspective. And, all of a sudden, death became a very real, very tangible possibility.

He’d lost count how many near encounters he had with death. His body was littered with countless scars as proof. His mind constantly haunted by ghosts from another life, from all the _what ifs_.     

Because the truth was that he had already crossed that imaginary line dividing worlds.

He had already died, hadn’t he?

He remembered being suspended in time, floating amongst the waves. He remembered the quiet and the sense of tranquility. Sun shining above his head, water lulling him to a dreamless sleep, his eyes had opening to a clear sky. He remembered thinking he was home, back at the beach in Varadero. But in a blink, it was all gone, replaced by the cerulean blue of Allura’s eyes, fear marring the lines of her face.

And then he understood.

He had died and, somehow, she had managed to bring him back.

He had _died_.

Those memories were blurry, a mess of distorted voices and a kaleidoscope of colors, more dream than reality.

 _But this_ , Lance thought, _this felt real._

The insistent throbbing in his head was nauseating, bile threatening to climb the walls in his throat, still sore from the screams Haggar had pulled out of him. Lance wondered if he would hear anything if he dared to speak or if his voice had been lost forever. He could feel his lips parting but there was no sound, only ragged breathing.

Somewhere above him, someone stirred. Strong and calloused hands cradled his face, featherlight despite their roughness. Lance could feel himself leaning towards that warm body, desperately seeking to thaw the ice running in his bloodstream.

It was cold.

Too cold.

Slowly, the darkness was replaced with light. Purples and grays and red. So much red. His eyelids fluttered open, but his tongue was made of lead, too heavy to move. It took him a moment longer to understand what he was seeing, to connect the hands resting on his cheeks to a face.

A beautiful face.

 _Keith_.

He had died then and this was heaven.

Keith had those indigo eyes directed at him, filled with starlight and cosmic dust. Dark strands of hair framed his face, falling unruly across his forehead and casting strange shadows on his cheekbones. His bloodstained fingers brushed the underside of his eyes, desperate in its attempts to clean the dirt and the grime staining his face, obscuring his freckles.

Voices echoed all around them, loud and familiar. In his periphery, he saw a fallen body. Blood pooling around the unmoving figure, face gaunt and pale. With eyes closed, Haggar didn’t look as threatening as before. She was almost fragile, made of paper-thin skin and light bones.

 _Dead_ , someone had said.

Haggar was dead.

Lance blinked, eyes lidded with a strange heaviness. He couldn’t remember her dying. He was only able to see shadows as they wrapped around him.

He had died, reborn in chaos. And amongst all the noise and the blood and the death, he had found Keith. And he had loved him, again and again and again.

Lance couldn’t tear his eyes from him. His beauty was hypnotic, dangerously alluring. It was in the details, things no one else paid attention to. But Lance had spent years watching him closely. How his entire face seemed to glow from the inside, brighter than any celestial body orbiting in the endless void outside the walls of that ship. How those thick eyebrows furrowed together in panicked concern. How his lips moved, forming a name. His name. On and on.

“Lance? Lance? Lance, don’t go…”

His touch became heavy, loaded. Lance felt his chest constricting, ribs closing in around his lungs and heart in a painful embrace.

“Lance, can you hear me? Lance?” Keith’s voice was nothing but a whisper, too broken to be anything else. “Lance, please, say something.”

Lance watched as Keith shouted at someone hovering somewhere behind him. A voiceless shadow. Lance couldn’t be entirely sure, too comfortable to move, safely nested in Keith’s arms. He watched in absolute awe as Keith leaned down, bringing their foreheads together. Bodies and souls colliding. Something that could barely be considered a smile tore through his lips. It was supposed to be reassuring, Lance knew, but it felt forced. Lance reached for Keith’s cheek, terribly slow in his attempt to catch a falling tear. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Keith this sad before. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Keith cry.

And it hurt.

It hurt to see him like this.

“Can you hear me, Lance? You’re going to be okay. Do you hear me?” Keith said, inhaling sharply. “I promise. You’re going to be okay, Lance.”

“You’re… Here.” Lance whispered back, voice hoarse from lack of use. He gently pressed his thumb between Keith’s brows, smoothing out the angry lines carved there.

“I am.”

Lance smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You are.”

Keith choked on a sob, biting his lip as another tear rolled down his face. He closed his eyes, hiding the pain in them, denying Lance the sight of his broken heart.

“Don’t cry.” Lance murmured, burying his fingers in Keith’s hair, black bleeding at the nape of his neck and on his fingertips. And then Keith was crying. A lone wolf howling to the moon, tears dripping from his chin and meeting the slope of Lance’s cheekbones. “Keith, why are you crying?”

Lance felt strong hands around his body, bringing them closer, closer, closer. Until all he knew was the press of Keith’s chest against his own, the warmth of his breath, the frantic beating of his heart hidden underneath layers of armor. He could taste the bittersweet flavor of Keith’s tears as they slipped between his chapped lips, finding solace in his tongue.

“I thought… I thought you had died.” Keith said in between sobs, shoulders shaking with terrible tremors. “I thought you were dead and I couldn’t — I couldn’t imagine a world without you in it, Lance.”

Keith’s arms tightened around him, hard enough to bruise. But Lance couldn’t care less. The physical pain he felt then was nothing compared to the thought of Keith gone. All he wanted was to get closer. All he wanted was Keith. Beautiful, brave Keith. With his starlit eyes and his rare smiles. With his heart made whole once again, its pieces no longer scattered across the floor. Lance thought that if he could he would kiss him. He would kiss him and everything would be alright. He would kiss him and the sun, the moon and the stars would all align. All he had to do was kiss him.

 _I love you_ , Lance thought, looking into Keith’s eyes, stars hidden behind dark lashes, their silvery glow leaking from the corners.

 _I love you_ , Lance thought as he watched Keith break and shatter and crumble to dust.

 “Lance, stay.” he sounded small and weak, pressing the words against his forehead. So much sorrow, so much pain. “Lance, please, stay with me. I need you. The universe needs you. Don’t go.”

Lance wondered if it would ever stop hurting or if he had been cursed to spend eternity in pain, if it was now part of him. Ingrained deep in the tissue of his bones. Running along his bloodstream. Keith’s voice dissolved amidst the fog clouding his thoughts, alongside countless others. Footsteps and loud cries and distant howling. All gone. All far away memories.

Lance heard the distinct sound of an animalistic growl and he was met with the wild glow of Kosmo’s eyes, yellow and blue. He had his teeth bared, fur standing on end as he barked at the two of them. He looked positively murderous, dark claws breaking the skin of his paws.

Above him, Keith became eerily silent. His tears had all but dried out, his sobs faltered, fading into nothingness. Lance found his eyes — silver specks swirling in a sea of dark blue — and his breath got caught in his throat. Dull. Lifeless. Devoid of any light. Dark pupils swallowed whole by the shadows lurking underneath.

“Keith?”

There was no response, only the slow, cruel curl of his lips. And Lance knew he had lost him yet again. Keith was gone and, in his place, stood an impostor. Just as beautiful, twice as deadly.

Lance took in a deep breath, reaching for the concoction Pidge had given him back on Earth. He enclosed his fingers around the silver vial, cold piercing through the sensitive skin of his palms.

 _Just in case_ , Pidge had said.

He felt Keith’s fingers slowly crawl around his throat, shadows dancing in his empty eyes.

“I’m sorry, Keith.”

Lance surged forward, gathering his remaining strength and clamping one of Keith’s wrists in his hand before puncturing his neck with a sharp syringe. It broke the fragile skin just below his jaw, sparkling blue liquid seeping into his bloodstream like disease. Keith’s eyes widened in horror, hand covering the side of his neck.

“L — Lance…”

Lance watched as Keith’s vision swam, eyes failing to remain locked onto his as he slowly lost his balance, collapsing on his back against the cold, hard ground. A sigh escaped past his parted lips as his eyes fell shut, stars fading away behind pale eyelids.

Lance mourned the warmth of Keith’s palms against his cheeks, moving to cradle his head on his thighs, brushing away the dark hair falling across his clammy forehead. He ignored the pain flaring up in his limbs, how his nerve endings seemed to be going out in flames. Nothing else mattered in that moment. There was only Keith, Keith, Keith. Absently, Lance felt Kosmo bumping his wet muzzle against his arm, a tiny whine escaping from his throat as he laid down at his feet.

_I love you._

Lance thought as he bent his head forward to press a feathery kiss on the corner of his cold lips.

_I love you, Keith._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've written this entire fic just so we could get to this point... It was hard to get this chapter done. It really was. I wanted it to be perfect and I'm a perfeccionist so... Yeah. But I think I managed to do it justice. Everything will be explained in the next chapter, I promise. And now I guess we're finally getting closer to the end... I think maybe we have 3 more chapters left? or 2? I'm still not sure.  
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated!  
> x


	11. part xi - i've never fallen from quite this high

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance let out a contented sigh.  
> “I’m not going anywhere, Keith.” he said, nuzzling against Keith’s neck. At the faint tremors running through his body, Lance’s lips tilted slightly upwards. “Nothing could ever take me away from this place, right here.”  
> Nothing could take me away from you.  
> They fell silent, listening to each other breathing. Lance looked at the rise and fall of Keith’s chest, at the loose strands of black hair that fell unruly down the nape of his neck, brushing his shoulders. He counted every beat of his heart, every flutter of his lashes as Keith closed his eyes.  
> “Tell me what else changed while I was away.” he asked, voice half a whisper.  
> Lance was vaguely aware of the press of his lips against Keith’s clavicle, a hand coming to stroke his midnight hair away from his face. He took in a deep breath, tightening his embrace around Keith, and then he began to tell him everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up two months after the last update*  
> Hey guys, I'm really sorry about the delay of this chapter but I had good reason for it (I go into further detail at the end notes...) but anyway I'm back!  
> The title for this chapter come from Billie Eilish's song "Ocean Eyes" and even though this is a bit of a bittersweet chapter for me I really hope you like it.  
> Sorry again for taking so long to update.  
> And let the fluff begin...

**part xi**

**i’ve never fallen from quite this high**

* * *

 

 _I've been watching you_  
_For some time_  
 _Can't stop staring_  
 _At those ocean eyes_

* * *

 

Haggar was dead.

Lance stared at her lifeless body, laid in a dark pool of her own blood on the cold metal floor. Her eyes were closed, golden-yellow orbs no longer emanating that strange, ominous glow. Her mouth was partially open, lips falling lax, haunted by the ghost of all the words she had been about to say before being silenced forever.

Lance stared at her and all he could see was a soulless, empty shell. Ashen and bloodied and dead, dead, dead.

All that power, extinguished.

All that darkness, gone.

The war had ended, at last.

But all-around chaos reigned. A cacophony of voices — some familiar, others not as much —, unbelievably loud as they pierced his ears. Hurried footsteps, ragged breathing, the staccato rumble of war drums. It took him a moment to realize the echoes ringing inside his head weren’t explosions. Outside, space had grown silent, dark in its stillness. The pounding in his skull came from his chest, blood pumping hard and fast, rattling his bones and drowning the voices calling out his name.

_Thump-thump._

On and on.

_Thump-thump._

Lance shook his head and forced his eyes closed, tuning out everything and everyone that weren’t Keith.

Keith, who had endured Haggar’s punishments for countless days and endless nights.

Keith, who had fought tooth and nail against the malevolent creature inhabiting his core, feeding of his quintessence, pouring poison in his bloodstream…

And _won_.

Keith, who loved him.

_Keith, Keith, Keith._

Lance cradled his face between his hands, thumb brushing against smooth porcelain skin, cleaning a patch of blood that had dried there, just below his left eye. Shades of red and maroon painted his upper lip and the tip of his nose, where rivulets of blood had flown freely only moments ago. Lance wanted to forget. He wanted to close his eyes and forget all the pain flaring inside those indigo eyes, all the desperate cries, the hopeless pleas.

But he couldn’t stop reliving the moment in his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about Keith’s eyes, frighteningly hollow and devoid of any real emotion. Images of his smile — bright and shark-like — blurring into Lance’s pained memories. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. How Keith laughed as Lance’s knees hit the ground, sword grazing a thin layer of skin, a bloody tear trickling down the slope of his neck. How Keith called out his name, slow and deliberate, almost like a caress. How the corners of his lips twitched a fraction upwards at the sound of Lance’s voice as he cried out in agony.

How Keith was brought to his knees, caught under a dark spell, unmoving as tears fell from his eyes. Bright eyes, starlit eyes. Eyes that brimmed with emotion. Raw. _Real_. How he cried and begged for Haggar to stop, as if he couldn’t bear the sight of Lance breaking. Over and over again.

Lance tried, tried, tried. But he couldn’t forget the terror in Keith’s eyes as he dived under the waves, his face the most beautiful thing Lance had ever seen.

He leaned down, ever so slowly, and pressed a gentle kiss to the slope of Keith’s tear-stricken cheek. Somehow, the skin there had managed to remain clean despite his battle efforts, untouched but for the saltiness etched underneath, slipping in bittersweet waves past Lance’s chapped lips.

“You’ll be okay, Keith. I promise.” Lance whispered, mouth grazing soft skin.

Keith looked awfully young as he laid there, cradled in Lance’s arms with his eyes closed and lips parted. Lance could do nothing but stare, unable to look away. He drank him in, heavily, hungrily; a starving man finding nourishment in the sharp lines of Keith’s face, the gentle curve of his chin, the dangerous slope of his cheekbone.

His hand travelled south across the solid planes of Keith’s chest, finding solace above his heart, where a steady beat could be felt under his fingertips. Blue eyes followed the smooth undulations there, warm breath leaving his mouth in shallow puffs of air. Lance felt something coil inside, as if his stomach was a rubber band pulled too tight, too hard.

In his periphery, he caught a glimpse of blood-smeared boots coming to an abrupt halt at his side. Slowly, Lance forced his eyes up, up, up. Luminous lilac flecks swirled amidst the endless blue of Allura’s eyes, a small crease forming between thin white brows as the silence between the two of them grew wider, thicker.

“Lance, can you hear me?” she asked, impossibly soft. Lance nodded in return, lips pursed in a grim line. “You need to see a doctor. And so does Keith.”

Lance absently registered the weight over his arm, the pressure of fingers as they dug into flesh. Allura had her eyes frantically searching both he and Keith, cataloguing each cut and scrape and bruise blossoming in every exposed inch of skin. It was slightly unnerving, to be caught under the scrutiny of that gaze. Lance felt ice coursing through his veins, a blizzard ragging in the confines of his chest as Allura’s glacial stare froze him in place.

“We can take care of everything else, don’t worry. Right now, you both need to rest.” Allura continued. Lance blinked back at her, taking in her words and their meaning. Suddenly, his body felt heavy. There was a persistent throb behind his eyes, small explosions rattling inside, flares of light and sound. “Do you think you can pilot Red back to the Atlas?”

“Y — Yeah, I can.” Lance croaked out after clearing his throat, still sore from his pain-stricken screams.

“Okay, good. I’ll ask Hunk to follow you, just to make sure you get there safe.” Allura said reassuringly, thumb drawing small circles on his arm. “He could take Keith in the Yellow Lion, there’s plenty of room in there for two people.”

“No.” Lance cut in, curt and sharp.

Allura frowned, confusion marring the lines of her face.

“No?” she echoed, puzzled.

“No.” he said through his teeth, eyes hard and unforgiving as he stared back at Allura in clear defiance. “Keith stays with me. I’ll take him to Red and we can go back to the Atlas together.”

“But Lance you’re injured, you can’t —”

“Keith stays with me.” Lance hissed, cutting her short. Allura looked back at him with wide eyes, lips clamping shut. “I’m not leaving him again.”

And he meant every word that had just left his mouth. Leaving Keith was not an option. Not now, not ever. The mere thought of moving on without Keith at his side was like a knife to the heart, cutting deep through muscle and bone. His body promptly responded to the fear of being once again left behind, alone in his misery. A wave of nausea rippled through his stomach, his throat, his mouth, flooding his ribcage and submerging his lungs in black water. He dug his fingers deeper into Keith’s flesh, terrified of letting go.

Lance wrapped him in a tight embrace, melting their bodies together. Foreheads touching. Skin to skin. Heartbeats playing a staccato symphony, the sound echoing from the cavernous space inside their chests. A peculiar sense of calm fell over him, comforting in its strangeness. Lance allowed himself to drown in the sensation, eyelids becoming heavy, limbs made out of lead.

 _Don’t close your eyes_ , whispered a voice in his head, no more than a distant echo. _Not yet._

War could be finally over and the universe could be safe, but there was still much to be done in order to achieve true peace, Lance knew. There was the matter of the Alteans, lost and homeless. There was darkness still preying Keith’s soul, lurking underneath. There was so much destruction, so much pain. Countless lives that had been ruined, entire civilizations decimated across the galaxies. Families cursed by death, hearts left shattered and broken. Peace felt like a fever dream, farfetched and unattainable.

Lance looked down at Keith still asleep in his arms, wondering how could they have been so lucky as to find each other amidst all the chaos reigning in the universe, surviving against all odds. He thought about all the battles they had fought, the monsters they had faced, the scars collected along the way. He thought about the night they’d met, long ago, when it all began. Stranded in the middle of the desert, freezing from the cold, stars shining bright against the dark fabric of the sky.

He felt his vision swim, blurred around the edges as memories of the past bled into the present. Blinking his eyes, Lance refused to let them fall closed. He locked them onto Keith’s pale face as darkness threatened to pull him under once again. He felt cold, chest barren. His insides had been painted white, snow settling in the empty spaces between his ribs, ice coursing through his veins. His heart had turned to glass, a delicate and fragile thing, his pain exposed for the world to see.

“Lance…”

Allura called for him, just as gentle as before, afraid he might break at the slightest pressure. Perhaps he would, Lance thought bitterly. Perhaps that’s all there was to him now. A broken heart. A stack of bruised skin and brittle bones.

He watched as her lips continued to move, but no sound filtered through his ears. He watched, watched, watched. Until her mouth fell closed. Until those electric blue eyes stared back at him with concern, causing sparks to ignite across his skin, the hairs on his arms and on the nape of his neck all standing on end. He pulled away from her touch and propelled himself upwards.

From the corner of his eye, Lance saw as Allura’s hand fell against her side, empty. How her eyes doubled in size at the sight of his arms tightening around Keith’s body, bringing him along, secure in a vicious embrace. Lance knew she must be wondering how he was able to carry Keith in his current state without crumbling under the weight of his body. Absently, Lance wondered the same. He was probably still running on adrenaline, anger and desperation fueling his senses. Soon, there would be nothing left but fumes.

“I’ll see you back at the Atlas.” Lance said before turning around, leaving a wide-eyed Allura behind.

As he crossed the double-doors, he heard the distant sound of Allura’s voice as she called for Hunk, fading to a low hiss as the automatic doors slid closed behind his back.

Keith weighted heavily in his arms, limbs falling limp at his sides as Lance carried him back to the Red Lion, limping as he dragged his injured leg down the long, endless corridors. Pain flared across his body with each step he took, lightening up his nerve endings and reminding him of the deep gashes Keith had carved on his thigh and on his arm. It burned, burned, burned.

Turning around another corner, his eyes landed on the imposing mechanical lion standing at the far end of the corridor; dull yellow eyes downcast, metallic jaw still open wide, just as Lance had left it before following Acxa towards the row of prison cells. His chest deflated, lungs working with an ease Lance had grown unaccustomed to in the past couple of weeks. It was a jarring feeling, to feel this weightless, washed away under a wave of relief as it flooded his insides.

Lance looked down at Keith for a brief moment, eyes trailing the shadows cast by his long lashes. He was _safe_. The thought hit him violently, like a punch to the gut, without any warning. Violet bruises might be blooming underneath smooth, porcelain skin and blood might have coated just above his upper lip, but he was alive.

Keith was alive. He was safe from Haggar’s sharp claws. A little battered and a little broken, but whole. The realization was enough to bring a lightness to Lance’s every step as he made his way to the Red Lion, stomach no longer churning in on itself, muscles loosening.

He climbed inside with some difficulty, clenching his jaw to prevent an embarrassing noise from escaping his throat as pain sparked from the open wound on his thigh. _God_ , Lance thought bitterly, _Allura was right._ He really needed to see a doctor as soon as he set foot on the Atlas.

“Shit.” Lance hissed under his breath as his eyes landed on the trail of blood he had left behind.

 _At least it’s not Keith’s_ , came as an afterthought. A part of Lance — that slightly masochist, rather stupid part — was glad he had been the one to endure the worst of the bruises. He didn’t think he would be able to withstand the sight of Keith if their roles were reversed. The mere thought was enough to cause bile to burn its way up his throat, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue as he tried to swallow.

Lance could feel Red’s presence in the back of his mind, filling his head with the sound of her concerned purrs. He tried to reassure her, but the pain made it difficult to concentrate on their bond. He let out a heavy sigh, shoulders sagging from exhaustion.

“I’m fine, Red. We’re both fine.” Lance murmured. But the mechanical lion seemed unconvinced, scratching the back of his mind with her metallic claws. “ _Díos_ , you sound just like my mamá sometimes.”

Lance shook his head at yet another silent rebuttal, a distant roar ringing in his ears. He chose to ignore her this time, making his way inside the empty cockpit. It felt colder somehow, as if the temperature had dropped since he’d left. His limbs were assaulted by terrible tremors, ghostly fingers running down his spine, chills trailing close behind. Lance was grateful when Red decided to close her mouth, jaws clamping shut with nothing but a quiet hissing sound, keeping the cold from creeping inside.

“Thanks, Red.” Lance whispered in response, feeling as remnants of tension left his body, muscles no longer stiff as the cold was slowly purged from his veins.

He placed Keith on the floor, on a corner next to the control panel, close enough for him to keep an eye on his sleeping form during the short trip back to the Atlas. Lance was careful as he laid him down, movements slow and controlled as he adjusted Keith’s limp body against the wall, adjusting his limbs in a poor attempt at giving Keith any semblance of comfort, making sure not to touch any of his most recent injuries.

All of a sudden, the air around them started to sizzle, atmosphere heavy with electricity. As if summoned by a silent calling, Kosmo appeared in a flash of white light, materializing at Lance’s feet with a quiet whimper. The cosmic wolf cocked his head to the side, regarding Lance with a pair of quizzical, gold-rimmed eyes.

“Hey, boy. It’s good to see you again.” Lance said in a small, slightly breathless voice. He buried his gloved fingers in the fur between Kosmo’s wolfish ears, lips trembling with the urge to smile. “I promised you we would find him, didn’t I?”

Kosmo disentangled himself from Lance’s touch, moving to stand next to Keith. He laid down beside him, curling himself closer to his body and nesting his head between his paws. His eyes found Lance once again for a brief moment before falling shut.

Lance watched him for a moment longer, giving another light caress behind one of his ears and pulling away slowly. His eyes landed on Keith, laying awfully still and silent at his side.

He rested a hand on his cheek, thumb tracing the pink scar that cut across the side of his face. Keith didn’t flinch at the touch, blissfully unaware of his surroundings as he sank further and further into a deep, dreamless slumber. Whatever substance Pidge had managed to develop, it seemed to be strong enough to block every light and sound from the outside world, acting as an impenetrable barrier. He wondered how long the effects would last. Hopefully, long enough for them to arrive at the Atlas.

Lance felt his chest constricting at the sight of Keith, hurt and unconscious. He looked almost dead, with his pale skin and his closed eyes, unmoving but for the steady undulations of his chest. Lance inhaled sharply, lungs smothered between his aching ribs, head shaking as he tried and failed to put an end to the traitorous thoughts roaming inside his head.

“Don’t worry, Keith. I’m taking you home.” Lance said softly, replacing the pad of his finger with his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. Keith tasted of iron and salt, skin cold under Lance’s mouth. “You’re safe now. No one is ever gonna hurt you again. I promise, okay?”

 _I promise_ , Lance’s voice echoed inside his head.

Carefully, he angled Keith’s body so he could rest his head on top of Kosmo’s warm body, face partially hidden amidst the gray, soft tufts of fur. A pleased sound erupted from the back of the wolf’s throat, eyes still closed as he settled back against Keith.

The corners of Lance’s lips quirked a fraction upwards and he thought that if he could, he would take a picture of that moment just so he could frame it to a wall in his bedroom back at the Garrison.

 _Earth_ , he thought. _Home._

They were going home.

A loud groan slipped past his lips as he struggled to stand back on his feet, bones and muscles protesting against the smallest movement. Lance couldn’t remember ever being in that much pain before, not even during the years spent in the Castle of Lions, where they’re fought against Galra forces almost on a daily basis, leaving the battle field with their bodies littered with fresh bruises and marred with ugly scars. Lance could barely move in the small, cavernous space of Red’s cockpit, not built to carry more than one person inside and currently bursting with two full-grown humans and a giant cosmic wolf.

Lance cursed under his breath, dragging his now mostly useless leg towards the pilot chair. He buried his teeth on the plump flesh of his bottom lip to suppress another pain-stricken groan as he slowly, carefully attempted to sit down. Closing his eyes, Lance exhaled in relief as he finally settled on his seat, head thrown back and fingers pressing down on the armrests. His joints screamed, grasping for something solid to hold on to as imaginary flames licked his arms and legs.

He took one last breath before opening his eyes, strapping himself to the chair and placing both hands on the dashboard. Red seemed to come alive then, her small interior illuminated from the soft glow of red lights. Lance basked in her gentle purrs and whispers as she wrapped him in her motherly warmth, familiar and comforting. He curled his fingers around the controls, holding tightly to them as he commanded Red to move.

“C’mon, girl. Get us out of here.” Lance said, sounding oddly firm despite the tremors wrecking his body. “Take us home.”

And as he spoke the words, Red let out a loud roar, glad to be leaving that dreadful ship. Lance could sympathize, lips quirking into a lopsided smile as they dived into outer space, erupting from the hole he had carved in the ship’s hull. Lance maneuvered across a sea of stars, leaving clouds of cosmic dust behind as he dodged lost scraps of metal and debris from destroyed vessels as they floated in the endless void. He didn’t so much as spare a second glance over his shoulder, eyes locked straight ahead, leaving Haggar’s ship behind, along with all the blood and the pain, forever buried in the darkest corner of his mind.

Lance clenched his jaw, tight enough to be able to hear the distinct sound of his teeth gritting together. The stars outside shone bright in his eyes, still brimming with unshed tears. He followed an invisible map back towards the Atlas, with nothing to guide him but the pattern of familiar constellations, their shapes emblazoned in his memory from all those years travelling through space, stargazing.

A dark, gargantuan cloud descended upon Red as they reached the IGF-Atlas, stationed not far from where Haggar’s ship had been. Lance swallowed thickly, mouth as dry as the Sonoran Desert. The doors to the Lions’ hangar opened at their quick approach. The crew had no doubt been warned about their impending arrival and, for that, Lance was grateful. He had left his helmet somewhere in Haggar’s ship, forgotten during battle. Without it, communication became somewhat difficult.

Lance guided Red through the doors, pulling gently at the controls as he eased them to the ground, careful not to stir Keith and Kosmo. In his periphery, he saw the Yellow Lion close behind, barging in and landing beside Red with a loud thud.

Unclasping the seatbelt, Lance stood from the pilot chair with a low groan. He hissed in pain with each step he took towards Keith, fire crawling down his thigh, setting his body ablaze. He nearly fell to his knees beside Kosmo, startling the wolf awake. Yellow eyes blinked back at him, a small noise escaping from his throat. He tilted his head forward, aiming for Lance’s extended hand, beckoning him to come closer.

Lance let out a relieved sigh at the feel of Kosmo’s heavy snout underneath his fingers.

“I don’t think I can carry Keith outside, buddy. Could you —” Lance trailed off, voice fading into a tired smile. He licked his chapped lips before trying one more time. “Could you take us there, Kosmo? I can’t — I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Kosmo barked in response, as if he could somehow understand the words that came out of Lance’s mouth. All around them, the air thrummed with electricity and a wave of heat enveloped Lance’s body. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to fall. White light shone behind his eyelids, painting his vision a dark red. The floor beneath his feet seemed to disappear, turning to ashes as it was blown away by a strong gust of wind. There was only silence and the feeling of something soft between his fingers.

And then there was nothing.

Lance opened his eyes with a gasp, slightly out of breath.

“Thanks, buddy. You’re the best space wolf in all universe.” Lance said, giving Kosmo a quick pat to the head.

He licked Lance’s face in response, snout leaving a wet trail across bronze skin. Lance choked on a laugh, pushing Kosmo’s head away and cleaning the patch of saliva etched on his cheek with his gloved hand.

“Lance!” came a loud voice, reverberating against the hangar’s high ceilings. “Oh, my God, Lance, are you okay? Please, tell me you’re okay, buddy.”

Lance lifted his eyes to meet Hunk as he ran across the empty hangar, footsteps echoing against the pristine floors, helmet held under his arm and eyebrows furrowed tightly together. He was panting by the time he finally reached Lance’s side, looking down at him with those big, brown eyes.

A smile crept between Lance’s lips, barely touching his cheekbones.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” he said, slurring on the words. His tongue felt heavy, as if made of lead. “God, I’m exhausted…”

“Are you sure? You don’t look fine. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so pale.” Hunk said and Lance watched through heavy-lidded eyes how his throat bobbed up and down as he tried to swallow. “I think you really need to see a doctor, buddy. Can you stand?”

Lance nodded, but his limbs refused to respond, body remaining frozen on the cold floor. He frowned, confused. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he move? Why couldn’t he feel anything?

“Hunk?” Lance called in a small voice, barely a whisper.

“Yes, buddy? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I can’t — I can’t move.” he muttered, blinking away the sudden wave of dizziness, vision blurring around the edges. Lance struggled to keep his eyes open, Keith’s desperate cries echoing in his ears. “I’m so tired, Hunk. I think I need to lie down and take a nap.”

“Lance? What are you talking about?” Hunk’s voice grew distant, unreachable. “Lance? Hey, buddy, don’t close your eyes. No, no, no, Lance don’t do that! You have to keep your eyes open. Do you hear me, Lance? Open your eyes.”

Lance felt himself drifting away, lulled by an invisible current, dark water slipping past his parted lips and filling the empty spaces between his lungs. He grew heavier, sinking further into the unknown. Somewhere above him Hunk called his name, again and again, begging him to open his eyes, to stay awake. But Lance was too far down, falling to the depths, bones gradually bending under the pressure.

He was lost to one of those rare moments of silence, when all he could hear was the sound of his own voice as it echoed against his skull. All restlessness seemed to have dissipated from his body, his insides becoming uncharacteristically quiet and still. There were no thorns scratching his throat, no wasps buzzing inside his stomach. No doubts nagging at the back of his mind, no fear of losing Keith, of being alone.

All of that was quickly forgotten as he plummeted into oblivion.

“Lance, wake up! C’mon, buddy, open your eyes.” Hunk pleaded, closer than before. “Lance, don’t do this to me. Lance? Lance!”

He could feel the tell-tale pressure of hands on his shoulders, trying and ultimately failing to shake him awake. There was the sound of doors whooshing open, followed by hurried footsteps. Another voice reached his ears, muffled under the loud pounding of his heart. But Lance knew that voice, deep and stern and safe. It seemed to resonate in the tissue of his bones.

Slowly, Lance fluttered his eyes open, blue meeting a steely gray. He parted his lips with some effort, barely able to recognize his own voice as it left his mouth, terribly weak and fragile. He knew he had called a name, even though he could no longer feel as his lips moved.

“S — Shiro…”

Lance saw a crease forming between those thick, dark brows. Eyes turning molten as he looked down at him. Lance blinked, but perhaps it had lasted longer than he initially thought because when he opened his eyes again Shiro was kneeling before him, close enough to reach out and touch. Except he couldn’t. He was too tired, too damaged. All he could do was watch as Shiro placed a hand on the side of his face, a ghost of a smile haunting his lips.

“You did it, Lance.” he said, impossibly soft. His eyes were like pools of liquid metal, silver specks swirling in the shallows. “You saved him. You brought him back.”

Lance managed a weak smile in return, no more than a twitch of lips, feeble and fleeting.

“I told you… I would.” his voice was but a whisper, strained as he forced the words out. “You need to… Take him… H — He’s hurt. I can’t —”

“It’s okay, Lance. I know, I know.” Shiro said, cutting him short. Lance tried to swallow, but his throat felt dry. “I’ll take care of Keith for you, okay? You need to rest now.”

He nodded in an awfully slow pace. It was but a small movement of the head, neck too stiff to do anything else. Lance didn’t say anything. He couldn’t find the words. Shiro’s eyes strayed to the blood stains littering his under suit and armor, painting everything a dark shade of red. He searched for traces of any lingering pain, but found nothing. Lance could see worrisome lines forming on Shiro’s forehead, face twisted into a frown.

“Shiro?” Hunk began, voice trembling as it left his lips. “Do you think he’s gonna…”

He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. But there was a dooming quality to his voice, a thought so terrible Lance could hardly wrap his hands around it, escaping his grasp as if made out of shadows. The silence lingered. The darkness became thicker. Lance felt a pair of hands on his shoulders and on the small of his back, lifting him from the floor. The cold became but a distant memory, his body enveloped in warmth.

Behind a veil of dark lashes, Lance had a glimpse of a solid chest, covered by a thick plate of armor. White and yellow danced in his vision. He caught a glimpse of Hunk’s smile directed at him, too small and strained to reach his eyes.

“Can I close my eyes now?” Lance asked. He wasn’t entirely sure Hunk had heard him, his voice sounding too low even to his own ears. It took a moment, but Hunk gave him a firm nod of his head. “Thanks, buddy.”

A tired smile.

A sigh.

And Lance lost himself to the haze inside his head.

* * *

 

Lance woke up sometime later in a room he didn’t recognize, laying on a bed that didn’t belong to him. He was startled into a sitting position, white sheets falling from his bare torso and pooling around his hips. He choked on his own breath at the unfamiliarity of it all, terror filling his veins and playing tricks on his mind. Closing his eyes, Lance willed his breathing to return to normal, inhaling through the nose and exhaling through the mouth.

On and on.

Until his chest no longer ached and his throat no longer burned.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

Lance snapped his head to the side, eyes landing on Hunk. He was no longer wearing his paladin armor, having replaced it with his Garrison uniform instead. There was a timid smile on his lips and a glass of water resting on his hand as he slowly approached the infirmary bed.

“How are you feeling, buddy?” he asked, extending the glass towards Lance. He accepted it without hesitation, eager to wash away the dryness from his mouth.

“I’m fine.” Lance replied after taking a long gulp. He noticed how Hunk seemed to flinch at his choice of words, eyebrows knotting together. With a sigh, Lance added. “I feel a lot better. Less… Tired.”

Hunk’s smile returned then, still somewhat shy, lacking any real humor.

“Good. That’s good.” he said. “We were all worried about you.”

Lance swallowed, hard. His eyes wandered around those four white walls, those pristine floors. The room was nearly empty, with only Hunk to keep him company. Lance ignored the bitter disappointment settling at the base of his stomach at the absence of his other teammates. His chest felt constricted, all of a sudden; heart imprisoned behind his ribcage. He missed them. His second family. His friends. He missed Pidge, Allura, Shiro. He missed Keith.

Lance cleared his throat before speaking, eyes burning as tears threatened to leak from that small ocean.

“H — How long was I asleep?”

“Not long. A couple hours, I think.” Hunk said with a shrug.

Lance nodded, realization slowly sinking in. He curled his fingers into fists, gripping tightly at the sheets, knuckles turning a stark shade of white against his naturally tanned skin.

“What about Keith? Is he…”

Lance cut himself short when his eyes found Hunk. He had a crestfallen expression on his face, shaking his head at the unspoken words, weighting heavily on Lance’s tongue.

“He hasn’t woken up yet. But, according to the doctors, his vitals are all good.” Hunk said, trying to sound reassuring.

He stared back at Lance, searching for any trace of a smile pulling at his lips, any semblance of normalcy, anything. But he was met only with severe eyes and grim lips; muscles pulled taut, jaw clenched hard.

“Hey, man, that’s a good thing. It means he’s resting.” Hunk continued, resting a hand on Lance’s bare shoulder and applying the smallest of pressures. “Which is what you should be doing too. You lost a lot of blood, did you know that? For a moment there I wasn’t sure if you would —”

Hunk stopped midsentence, taken aback when Lance placed a hand on top of his, scars coarse against the smooth skin covering Hunk’s knuckles.

“I’m still here, Hunk.”

 _I’m still alive_ , Lance added inwardly.

He forced a smile past his lips and the gesture seemed enough to appease Hunk, only barely. There was something lacking, something that did not belong there, slightly out of place. Warning bells rang in his ears, a loud chorus of _wrong, wrong, wrong_. They knew each other too well to be fooled for long, eyes trained to notice every single crack that might appear in the forts they had built for themselves, seemingly unbreakable. It was only a matter of time before Hunk saw past his act. Only a matter of time before he broke to pieces in front of an audience.

In one swift movement, Lance distanced himself from Hunk, throwing his legs over the edge of the mattress. At his side, Hunk frowned in confusion.

“Lance, what are you doing? Did you not listen to what I was saying? You need to _rest_.”

Lance spared him a quick glance before jumping out of bed, landing on unsteady feet. Somehow, he managed to regain some of his balance, avoiding a disastrous encounter of his face with the cold, hard ground. Lance flashed a smile towards Hunk, bright and charming, silently dismissing his wavering body, muscles still adjusting to the lack of use.

“See, I told you I was fine.” Lance said, winking at Hunk. From where he stood, he could see how hard Hunk was trying not to roll his eyes at his antics. “Do you know where my clothes are?”

Hunk lifted an eyebrow at that, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“What do you want your clothes for?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I can’t go out there looking like this.” Lance retorted, pointing at his naked chest and receiving nothing but a subtle shrug in response.

“And what exactly do you expect to find out there?”

The silence between them grew wider, thicker. Lance was the first to break it, unable to keep his lips sealed for much longer. He let out a sigh, running a hand through the disheveled, short strands of his hair.

“I’m going to see Keith.” he said, at last.

“Lance —”

“What?” Lance snapped back, filled with immediate regret at the sight of Hunk, shoulders becoming tense at his harsh tone.

He opened his mouth in a rushed attempt to apologize, to say he didn’t mean it, anything so that his best friend wouldn’t look at him like _that_. He was just angry, and in pain, and he couldn’t bear the thought of being away from Keith. But Hunk was faster, giving him no chance as the words left his lips.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” his voice was low, collected, lacking any real heat. He sounded nothing like Lance. “I know you worry about him, Lance. We all know how much Keith means to you, but you can’t forget about yourself, man.”

When Lance didn’t say anything, Hunk continued. Brown eyes bored deep into a bottomless blue.

“You nearly _died_ , Lance. I almost lost my best friend.” he said, lips parting to release a tired sigh, chocolate brown eyes closing for a brief second. “I just… I’m trying to look after you. I don’t want any of us to go through something like that ever again. But I know how stubborn you can be sometimes. Especially when it comes down to the people you care about.”

Lance felt a pang of guilt in the hollow of his chest, knowing he had been the one responsible for that look on Hunk’s face. Warm, bright Hunk. Now cold and dim. Lance shook his head, chewing nervously on his bottom lip.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to scare any of you. But I had to do it.” he said. “I had to try, Hunk. It’s — It’s Keith. I couldn’t just —”

“I know.” Hunk cut in with a sigh. “There’s no changing your mind, is there?”

“I think you already know the answer to that question.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Hunk said, arms falling at his sides in clear defeat. Lance watched him reach out for the clothes on the nightstand, hands cradling a ball of white and blue fabric, carefully folded. “Here. Veronica brought these for when you woke up.”

Lance grabbed his uniform from Hunk’s waiting hands, eyebrows shooting upwards at the mention of his sister.

“Veronica was here?”

Hunk nodded.

“She left a couple minutes ago. Apparently, she had to attend some Atlas business.”

“Oh.”

“There’s a bathroom over there for you to change.” Hunk said, sending a pointed glance over Lance’s shoulder, to the door at his back. “I’ll just wait for you here.”

Lance mouthed a timid “Okay” before crossing the sliding door, a quiet hiss trailing behind as he stepped inside the tiny bathroom. He gasped at his own reflection, stormy blue eyes staring back at him from the mirror above the sink. His skin lacked its natural honey-like glow, his hair mussed back against his temples and forehead, brown strands coated in grime and dried blood.

Multicolored bruises painted his chest and ribs, a myriad of purples and blues blending with dark brown skin. He traced them with the tip of his fingers, eyes following the movement as they climbed up, up, up. Until he grazed the rough material of the bandages placed at the base of his neck, covering the exact spot where Keith had pressed a blade against his skin.

If he closed his eyes, Lance could still remember with vivid clarity how the cold, sharp edge of the metal broke skin and drew blood, warm and syrupy as it slid down his clavicle, pooling at the hollow of his collarbones.

With a shuddering sigh, Lance focused on the task at hand, discarding the pair of loosely fitted shorts he had been given earlier and pulling the dark fabric of his uniform pants all the way up his legs, careful not to brush against the bandages curled around his thigh. He put on his shirt next, buttoning it up with trembling fingers.

Looking back at the mirror, Lance noticed how the high collar of his uniform covered most of the bandages around his throat, with only small patches of white peaking from underneath. He almost looked like himself again.

 _Almost_ , Lance reminded himself, turning the faucet on and splashing some water on top of his head, hoping to get rid of at least most of the dirt ingrained in his hair. He watched with his nose scrunched up in disgust as the water turned an ugly shade of maroon, the blood coated in his hair slipping down the drain.

He took one last look at his face, reflected back at him. Eyes dark and unfamiliar, blue swallowed by the black of his pupils. Lips pursed together in a grim line. A shallow cut running across his left eyebrow, paired with a series of tiny scrapes adorning his chin and cheekbones.

Lance felt something break inside his chest at the memory of Keith on the other end of each blow, knowing his hand had been the one holding the hilt of the sword.

There was a soft knock on the door and then came Hunk’s voice from the other side, muffled behind a thick wall.

“Lance? Is everything okay in there? What’s taking you so long?”

“N — Nothing. I’m coming.”

As the door opened, Lance put on a smile, purposefully ignoring the light tremors rattling his body, causing him to stutter. He buried his hands in his pockets, hoping to protect his twitching fingers from Hunk’s meticulous stare. Lance could feel himself being slowly unmade under his dark gaze, all of his defenses crumbling down, one by one, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. Heart laid out at his feet, bleeding and broken.

He could hardly stand, knees turning molten and liquid as he took a step forward. Then another and another one after that.

“Lance, there’s something —”

Hunk was interrupted by the sound of the doors whooshing open, revealing a short, blonde woman holding a tablet in her hands. Lance couldn’t help but notice she was dressed all in white, in a nurse’s uniform. She came to an abrupt halt when she lifted her eyes from the screen, brows raised in surprise.

“What are you doing up? You were supposed to be resting.” she said in a clipped tone, narrowing her eyes at Lance, who remained still in the middle of the room.

“I think I already had plenty of rest.” Lance placed a smile between his lips, but the gesture lacked any real humor. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m all better now.”

“No, you’re not. Not really.” Hunk retorted, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. “I agree with her. You need more rest. It’s too soon for you to be roaming around.”

A very emphatic, rather dramatic gasp left Lance’s mouth.

“Hunk, how could you? Betrayed by my own best friend.” he grumbled, feigning outrage. “What have I done to deserve such a fate?”

“Lance, stop.” Hunk said. A long, tired sigh lingered in the space between them. “You know I’m right.”

Lance opened his mouth to protest, but whatever he had been about to say died on his tongue as voices broke through the walls, loud and undiscernible, accompanied by the rushed sound of boots clacking against metal.

“What is going on out there?” Lance asked instead, watching with growing unease as pure, unabashed panic flickered in Hunk’s eyes, a curse slipping past his lips. “Hunk, what’s happening? Is there something wrong?”

Slowly, Hunk turned around. He had his communication device nested in the palm of his hand, screen still bright with an incoming message. His eyes were open wide, his brows furrowed together. Lance felt his heart become utterly still, plummeting down like a stone.

“Hunk? What is it?” he asked in a pant of breath, barely managing to get the words out.

Hunk paused for a moment longer, taking a deep breath. Lance grew impatient, hands becoming restless at his sides, having escaped the confines of his pockets. His body buzzed with electricity, nerves charged, ears ringing with static.

“Okay, first of all,” Hunk began, wary. “Please, listen to me before doing anything stupid. _Please_ , just… Listen.”

Another pause.

Another intake of breath.

Lance could hear his own heart as it pulsated.

Harder, faster, louder.

“Hunk —”

With a sigh, Hunk said, “It’s Keith”, and the name alone was enough to bring his heart to a stop. Lance missed a beat, then another as the words continued to pour from Hunk’s lips.

“He’s awake.” he said. “He’s awake, but he’s not —”

Lance’s feet were already moving before Hunk had a chance to finish that sentence, carrying him to the narrow corridor outside, past Hunk’s pleas, past the nurse’s protests, past automatic doors. All coherent thought had fled his mind at the mention of Keith’s name.

All but one.

A spark ignited in his core, lighting up dormant embers, stoking a fire inside. And it was this small beacon of hope that guided him. Following the commotion raging outside, Lance was able to find the room where they had been keeping Keith. With some effort, he managed to slither his way inside, diving into the small crowd gathered by the door, swimming through a sea of sharp elbows and long legs.

A laugh reached his ears as he drew near, stolen from one of Lance’s most dreadful nightmares. He closed his hands into fists, seeking for any semblance of control, heart beating impossibly fast, chest heaving with anticipation.

And then he stopped altogether.

Because there was Keith, his face filling Lance’s vision in shades of indigo and white. A cruel smile cut across his lips, canines glistening bright under the glow of the artificial lights.

He had his arms and legs restrained, metal cuffs circling both of his wrists and ankles, tying him to the infirmary bed. His body was flanked on each side by Shiro and Lotor, their hands intent on keeping him caged, trapped to the mattress. But Keith struggled like a wild beast locked in captivity. Animal-like snarls left his mouth, teeth bared in a threatening manner.

Ruthless.

Unrelenting.

At the foot of the bed, Kosmo’s vicious growling was but a distant echo compared to the sounds leaving Keith’s mouth.

Lance barely managed to get out a weak “Keith” past his lips before being burned by the fire simmering in those dark eyes.

If possible, Keith’s smile grew sharper.

“Oh, look who decided to join this lovely party.”

Both Allura and Pidge turned around at the same time, Lance’s name falling from their lips in unison.

“What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be out of bed yet.” Allura said, staring pointedly at him.

Lance dismissed her with a roll of his eyes, purposefully ignoring the concerned glances thrown his way. He was fine. Was that really so hard to believe? Why couldn’t they listen to him?

“I said I’m _fine_.” he said through gritted teeth.

Somewhere behind him the doors whooshed open, the sound of ragged breathing and heavy footsteps filling the room.

“Hunk, you were supposed to watch him.” Allura said with a sigh. “We talked about this, remember?”

“I know, Allura. But he just… Took off.” Hunk sounded tired, words coming out clipped with each breath.

“How did Lance beat you here, anyway? Doesn’t he have, like, twenty stitches on his leg or something?” Pidge countered, eyebrows furrowed behind their glasses.

Lance didn’t know. A surge of adrenaline at the prospect of seeing Keith, perhaps. Or maybe the medicine running through his bloodstream had finally started to kick in. Whatever it was that had numbed the pain from his leg hardly mattered at this point. Not when he had Keith right _there_ , solid and real and close enough to touch.

“Come here, Lance.”

Lance inhaled sharply at the sound of Keith calling out his name, how easily it rolled from his tongue.

“Why are you standing so far? C’mon, Lance, come a little closer. Didn’t you miss me? I thought you said you loved me.”

Keith’s voice startled Lance into motion, as if caught under a spell. He only managed one step forward before a large, metallic hand shot outward, blocking his path.

“ _Don’t_.”

Lance blinked away the hazy fog clouding his vision, seeing past the confusion and falling head-first into an iron-like gaze.

“Don’t listen to him, Lance.” Shiro said. “It’s not the real Keith.”

Lance looked back at Keith, stiffening at the color of his eyes. His sclera was a sickly shade of yellow, irises dark and unfathomable. His pupils had shrunken into thin slits, cutting vertically across a pool of indigo, alien and cat-like.

 _Galran_ , his mind provided.

It was a terrifying sight and yet Lance couldn’t tear his eyes away from him, head thrown back as another laugh scratched its way free from his throat.

_It’s not the real Keith._

Lance clenched his hands into fists, blunt nails digging into the scars on his palms, completely numb to the pain.

“It’s not real.” Lance muttered under his breath.

Keith snarled back at him, hissing through his teeth. Eyes too dark, too empty.

“What’s the matter, lover-boy? Why do you keep lying to yourself? As if that will make you feel any better.” Lance forced himself to look back at him, but it was a hard thing to do when he was met with nothing but never-ending darkness. “Liar, liar… I can see the truth in your blue, blue eyes and what I see is pitiful.”

“It’s not real.” Lance echoed, closing his eyes. “You’re not him.”

“Why won’t you open your eyes, Lance? See me for who I really am.” Keith asked, taunting. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re in a lot of pain. Is it your leg? Or is it your arm? Or, maybe, it’s your heart…”

“That’s enough!”

Shiro boomed, voice loud and deep like thunder, bringing the room to stunned silence. Lance opened his eyes, hesitant at first; body still visibly tense, the muscles on his back and shoulders pulled taut, like the string of a bow before you fired an arrow. Keith had an amused smile playing on his lips, eyes dancing with shadows, dark and malicious.

“Allura, do something.” Shiro half demanded, half pleaded.

Lance could see Allura orbiting in his periphery, lips forming a thin line as she looked from Keith to Shiro. Her eyes shone under the fluorescent lights, glossy pearls forming around the edges. In all those years commanding Voltron, leading them into battle, bearing countless losses over her shoulders, Lance couldn’t remember ever seeing Allura break. Not once. But, in that moment, he thought she might. The invisible armor she always wore was now littered with fissures, not as stern as it once was.

“Allura.”

She breathed in, chest deflating a moment later. Her eyes found Lance for a brief second as she closed the space separating her from the bed. He thought he could hear her voice inside his head, light and clean, almost apologetic.

Lance frowned, watching her closely.

How she averted her gaze from his, lowering her head towards Keith. How the marks on her cheekbones slowly came to life, shining a shimmering pink against her dark complexion. Her brows were set into a permanent frown, as if deep in concentration. Eyes unblinking.

“Hunk, take Lance back to his room.” Shiro ordered, barely sparing them a glance over his shoulder. “You too, Pidge. Go.”

“What? Why?”

“You still remember what it was like when Allura took the creature from Romelle, don’t you? How she screamed in pain? Now, she has to do the same to Keith.” Shiro said, staring back at Pidge. Lance remembered. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget. “It’s not gonna be pretty, guys.”

“I don’t care.” Lance blurted out, clenching and unclenching his hands, hoping for a lifeline. But there was nothing to hold on to, only air. “I promised Keith I wouldn’t leave him alone.”

“Lance —”

“No.” he retorted, curt and hard. “I’m staying. Do whatever you have to do, Allura. But I’m not going anywhere.”

Lance refused to move, rooting his feet to the ground and lifting his chin in defiance. Pidge stood at his side, equally defiant. They had their arms curled in front of their chest, green uniform rumpled around their shoulders. A single, unimpressed eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, me neither.” they added.

“For better and for worse, right?” came Hunk’s voice, whispered softly in Lance’s ear.

He turned around, just enough to have a glimpse of Hunk’s warm smile. He felt a knot sprouting inside his chest, blooming like the button of a flower, climbing up his throat and down his ribcage, filling his mouth and lungs. Lance was transported back to a starry night at the Garrison, sitting on the roof with Hunk and Pidge while they picked up all of his lost pieces, scattered across the cold concrete floor, carefully putting him back together. There was no blanket of stars covering their heads now like it did then, but Lance could feel his chest expanding all the same, filled with something warm. Blooming, blooming, blooming.

Shiro stared back at him, face softening at whatever he saw reflected in those deep, blue eyes.

“Are you sure you wanna stay for this, Lance?” he asked, eyes searching.

Lance simply nodded.

“We know, Shiro. But this is Keith we’re talking about.” Pidge said, every syllable drenched in an unwavering certainty. “We’re still here, aren’t we? Don’t worry about us. We can take it. We’re not going anywhere.”

Shiro let out a heavy sigh, resigned.

“Very well, then…” he conceded, at last, turning back to Allura on the other side of the bed. “Are you ready to do this, princess?”

She gave him a firm nod of her head, taking a step closer to the edge of the mattress. Keith’s eyes followed her every move, the tip of his teeth peeking through his pursed lips, white and sharp. He pulled at the restraints, nails digging into the soft skin of his palms, knuckles turning white from the effort. He pulled and pulled and pulled. Harder, stronger. Until dents formed around his wrists and thin rivulets of blood slid down the inside of his forearms, smearing the white sheets with red spots.

“Hold him.”

It was all Allura said before bringing her hands to his chest, pressing down against his sternum, just as she did with Romelle. Except, this time, Lotor’s hands were not there to guide her through the process, as he held onto Keith instead. Lance forced himself to _watch_ , to _see_. His mouth tasted bitter and he felt as if his throat was made of sandpaper when he tried to swallow the bile that rose from his stomach, churning and hurting in an agonizing ebb and flow.

And, still, he _watched._

How Keith fought. How he scratched and growled, like a wild animal trapped in a cage. How he bit out curses to Allura, to Shiro, to everyone present in the room. Hissing promises of pain and regret, of violence and decay.

Lance knew it was the creature speaking, using Keith’s voice as a conduit. He _knew_ that. Because Keith would never say such hurtful things to his teammates, to his family.

To _him_.

Lance knew that, but still it hurt.

And, yet, he found it very hard to look away, too weak to restrain himself from the desire to stare at Keith.

“Be quiet.” Allura muttered, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

A small gasp broke free from her lips and the Altean markings at the corners of her eyes sparked to life, glowing a bright pink.

Allura groaned, the sound ripping mercilessly through her throat. Her hands trembled, fingers spasming, unsteady above Keith’s chest. A deep frown cut across her forehead and a weak noise left her mouth, small and pain-stricken. Beside her, Lotor was growing tense, shoulders squared and jaw clenched tightly.

Lance noticed how the atmosphere seemed to change, as if negatively charged all of a sudden. A dark cloud hovered in the ceiling above their heads, casting menacing shadows over them. Something had gone terribly wrong, Lance knew.

How long had they been there? How long had he been listening to Keith’s screams? How much longer until his cries of agony would fade from his ears?

Lance could feel chills running down his spine, cold sweat coated on his temples and on the palms of his hands. All he could hear was the sound of Keith’s voice, hoarse and raspy. _Now_ , as he laid in bed, struggling against the creature living inside him. _Then_ , his desperate pleas when Haggar had Lance trapped in a web of dark druid magic, choking the life out of him.

Lance couldn’t take this anymore. He couldn’t breathe. His throat was closing in, his lungs growing smaller and smaller. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t. He —

“Stop!” Lance screamed, voice raw, laced with the acrid tendrils of desperation. “Please, Allura, stop. It’s not working. It’s not — You’re hurting him. _Please_ , stop…”

Allura lifted her hands from Keith’s chest, awfully empty. Her body was assaulted by terrible tremors. There was no reddish glow flickering behind her fingers, no rift creature floating between her palms. Nothing. Lance felt his body grow cold, cold, colder. The blood was gone from his veins, replaced with shards of ice.

Allura stumbled back on her feet, knees crumbling under her weight as she fell, colliding against Lotor’s solid chest. He held her in his arms, preventing a fatal encounter between her face and the cold, hard floor.

“Allura? Allura!” Lotor called out, eyes running across every inch of her face, panicked. “Allura, open your eyes. Look at me.”

With some effort, her eyelids fluttered open, blearily, still heavy with exhaustion. Only a thin slit of blue could be seen behind a curtain of long, dark lashes. She opened her mouth, only to close it an instant later, words lost on her confusion.

“Hey,” Lotor murmured, low and gentle. “Talk to me, Allura. What are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. I’m just… A bit tired, I suppose.”

“You’re pushing yourself too hard.” he said, brushing a stray lock of silvery-white hair away from her face. Allura didn’t so much as flinch from the intimacy of the a gesture, eyes boring into Lotor’s yellow-blue orbs. “You need to be more careful. Do you hear me?”

Allura nodded quietly, a flush of pink dusting her cheeks, spreading to the pointy tip of her ears. Lance couldn’t help but notice how she didn’t pull away from Lotor this time, still comfortably nested between his arms, head resting against the slope of his neck, where shoulder and clavicle met. He wondered what might have happened during the battle in Haggar’s ship to elicit such a drastic change between the two of them. Lance wondered if she’d tell him if he were to ask her.

“I don’t understand… Why didn’t it work?” Pidge asked, breaking the silence.

Allura sighed, massaging her temple with two of her fingers. She looked tired, barely standing on her own feet.

“I — I don’t know. But I’m guessing Lotor is right.” she said, glancing back at the galran prince. “I must have used too much of my quintessence to release the Alteans from the creatures living inside them. And, now, reaching out to Keith was… It was too much. I pushed too far.”

“You need to rest, princess.” Shiro pitched in, eyes never once straying from the unconscious boy now laying on the bed. Lance followed his eyes, counting down each rise and fall of Keith’s chest. _Up, down, up_ — “We all do. Neither of us have gotten any actual sleep since our battle with Haggar. We won’t accomplish anything in this state.”

“You’re probably right, Shiro.” Allura said. “We should all go to our rooms, heal from our wounds and replenish our energy.”

Lance found himself unable to move, feet frozen to the floor. Allura’s words came and went through his ears, as fleeting as a summer breeze. Hunk pulled him into a hug, hands digging into his shoulder blades as he held him impossibly close. Lance closed his eyes and buried his face in Hunk’s neck, inhaling the vanilla scent from his skin and hair.

“I know you’re gonna stay and that there’s no talking you out of it, so just… Take care, okay? Try getting some sleep too.” Hunk said, voice muffled against his shoulder.

“I will.” Lance replied, just as low. “I promise.”

Reluctantly, Hunk let him go and Lance caught himself mourning the absence of those strong hands pressed against his back. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this until then. How much he craved for human touch, warm and alive and real. How he longed for someone to pull him back from the edge, to ground him to reality.

“Let us know if anything changes, okay?”

Lance gave Pidge a small nod and received a quick, hesitant hug in return before they scurried outside, closely followed by Hunk.

“So,” Allura began, coming to rest at his side. Lance turned his face to look at her, taking a glimpse of Lotor standing close behind, a hand casually resting on the low of her waist. He quickly looked away. “You’re staying?”

“Yeah. I think I will.”

“Keith is lucky to have you at his side, Lance.” Allura said, a timid smile tugging at her lips. Lance gnawed on his bottom lip, feeling a familiar heat engulfing him, cheeks burning. “He’s still in there somewhere. I could feel it.”

Allura placed a hand on the side of his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone, just beneath his eye, where her Altean markings laid dormant on her face. With a hint of a smile still residing on her lips, she spoke again.

“I’m not giving up on him and neither should you.” her words lingered in the air between them, whispered like a secret. “I _will_ bring him back. I won’t stop trying until I do. It’s a promise, Lance.”

Lance didn’t say anything. But he thought, perhaps, he should have.

Allura left him with a gentle kiss on his cheek, returning to Lotor’s waiting arms, footsteps faltering under her weight as they crossed the automatic doors together.

He remained standing there, in that same spot, for a solid minute after they were gone. He had his eyes trained on the palms of his hands, tracing the pale lines there. If he concentrated hard enough, he could still remember how deep a luxite blade had pierced his skin, how jarring was the pain, how vivid was the blood as it poured freely from the open gashes in his palms, his arm, his leg.

He stayed there, unmoving and unspeaking, until he felt Kosmo’s wet muzzle bumping against the side of his leg. Lance felt that tell-tale twitch in his lips, as he did every single time Kosmo had those curious, blue eyes directed at him. It seemed to pull at some hidden string inside him, close to the corners of his mouth. And then he was smiling, hands running down the velvet coat on his back, fingers disappearing between tufts of gray fur.

“I missed you, boy. Guess I’ve grown too used to sleeping next to you in my bed.” he said, kneeling down to press his face against the crown of Kosmo’s head. “But Keith needed you more, I know that. You’re such a good boy. Yes, you are. I’m so happy he found you.”

A low chuckle erupted somewhere behind him and Lance turned around too fast, too hard, almost giving himself whiplash. And, there, towering over his back, he found Shiro looking down at him, a smile peeking through his lips, something light and fond swirling in the silver pools of his eyes.

“S — Shiro!” Lance stammered, awkwardly clearing his throat before continuing. “What are you still doing here? I thought everyone had left.”

“I’m staying too.” he said, matter of fact. “Is that okay with you?”

“Y — Yeah, yeah. Sure. I mean, if anyone’s staying then it should be you.” at the sight of Shiro’s frown, Lance rushed to add, “You know, because you’re, like, his brother. Or something. I mean, you’re family and I’m not —”

“Lance,” Shiro began, effectively silencing Lance, who had clamped his mouth shut at the sound of his name being pronounced in such a stern manner, chewing nervously on the inside of his cheek as he waited for Shiro to continue. “I’m sure Keith would be happy to know you stayed by his side. You’re his family too.”

His stomach lurched at Shiro’s words, heart missing a beat. The heat pooling on his cheeks grew warmer, freckles fading away against the darker complexion of his skin. The room became awfully quiet and there was nothing but the soft humming of Keith’s breathing to fill that ever-growing emptiness.

Lance took a step closer towards the bed, forcing himself to move despite the pain lingering on every part of his body, tugging at his muscles, ingrained in his bones. His eyes landed on Keith, deeply asleep. Lashes casting shadows across his pale skin, lips chapped and colorless. Hair falling unruly across his forehead, a halo made out of the darkest ink.

Lance felt invisible fingers pulling at the strings of his heart, bittersweet notes echoing through his veins.

“Do you think Allura will be able to bring him back?” Lance asked, voice barely a whisper.

He didn’t dare to look at Shiro, terrified of what he might find lurking in those steely-gray eyes of his. Instead, he looked at Keith. At the scar on the side of his face. At the delicate slope of his nose. At his chest, rising and falling with each breath he took.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

“I know she will.” Shiro replied, voice just as low as Lance’s had been. But, unlike Lance, there was certainty in his tone, strong and hopeful. “I have faith in Allura. If anyone can bring him back, it’s her. She just needs time.”

Neither of them said anything after that, settling into comfortable silence. Lance was reluctant to break it, not trusting what might come out from his mouth if he so much as parted his lips.

He could feel a deep-rooted ache in his bones as they called out to him, telling him to _move_ , to take another step forward. Just a little further, just a little closer. Lance wanted to feel the softness of Keith’s skin, to trace the jagged edges of his scars. His fingers trembled with a raw, desperate longing to reach out and _touch_.

 _Cold_ , was the first thought that crossed his mind the moment he touched Keith’s hand, limp on top of the sheets and just as pale.

His skin was as smooth as Lance imagined it would be. A velvety, milky white. But his palms — no longer hidden underneath the leather of his gloves — were rough, blooming with callouses and tiny scrapes. Those were the hands of a warrior, a soldier, fingers made to hold the hilt of a blade.

Lance let out a trembling sigh, body shivering from a simple touch. How he wished those fingers had been made to hold him instead.

“How did you do it, Lance?”

Lance stiffened at the sound of Shiro’s voice, refusing to meet his eyes. He stared at Keith instead, at his colorless lips and his fluttering lashes.

“Do what?”

“How did you bring him back?” he asked. “Allura told me that when she found the two of you, Keith was still himself.”

Lance swallowed the thick knot lodged in his throat, terribly aware of Shiro’s piercing glare. He gave him a weak shrug of his shoulders, parting his lips and allowing the words to spill unbidden from the tip of his tongue.

“I don’t know.” he confessed, still not looking back at Shiro, choosing to stare at Keith’s bruised knuckles instead. “I just… Asked him to come back and he did.”

“Just like that?”

Lance nodded.

“Just like that.”

Shiro hummed in response, sounding oddly distant. Lance could practically hear the mechanisms working tirelessly inside his head, trying to make sense of what he had just said. Lance felt his stomach curl uncomfortably, anxiety prickling at the tip of his fingers.

“What does it mean?” Lance heard himself speak, but he couldn’t remember having moved his lips. “What does it _mean_ , Shiro?”

“I don’t think I follow, Lance.”

“Why could I get to him when nobody else could? Not even Allura and her strange Altean magic.” he asked, voice cracking, breaking, turning to dust. “Why me? _Why_?”

The hard lines that had been carved on Shiro’s face ever since Keith’s disappearance seemed to soften then, lips parting into something that strongly resembled a smile. But not quite there yet. Lance recoiled at the sight.

“Lance, I think you already know the answer to that.”

Acxa’s words burned in the back of his mind, only now they were uttered in Shiro’s deep, rumbling voice.

_Keith is in love with you._

And, even now, the mere thought of Keith having feelings for him still managed to twist his stomach into tight knots, bile rising in his throat. Up, up, up. Until the ocean came undone against the shoreline, retreating for a single, blissful second before breaking once again. Until his tongue tasted bitter and acrid. It hardly felt real, not solid enough for his trembling fingers to grasp.

Could Acxa be right? Could Keith be in love with him?

Lance knew she believed in that, he had heard it in her voice. But believing in something did not make it true.

He was caught in a memory, dark tendrils of smoke wrapping around his wrists, his ankles, holding him prisoner. Images flooded his brain, exploding like fireworks behind closed eyelids. He couldn’t think about anything else other than Keith crying out his name as Haggar tortured him, hot tears trickling down his cheeks and lips pulled tight into a grim line. Cold hands caressing his face, foreheads touching, their breaths mingling together as one. He played the images in his head, over and over and over again. Until they were imprinted into the very tissue of his lids, until he could no longer close his eyes without seeing the hurt in every line of Keith’s face, without hearing the pain as it bled from his mouth.

A tear fell from Lance’s eye, leaving a cold trail on his cheek. He blinked away the moisture brimming in the corners, swallowing the uncomfortable lump at the base of his throat. A shaky breath left his lips.

“I miss him.” a pause, a sharp inhale, and then the words were tumbling from his mouth. “God, I’m so tired of missing him. I just wish he’d come back. I want him back, Shiro. I want him back here with us. With me. I want him back. I —”

His words were muffled against the hard surface of a chest, a pair of strong arms wrapping around his body in a warm embrace. Lance bit back a sob, digging his nails on Shiro’s broad shoulders and grabbing a fistful of his shirt between his fingers. He held on tightly, fingers curling in a vicious grip, terrified of letting go.

“I know, Lance.” Shiro murmured against the crown of his head. “I know.”

Lance wiped the tears away from his eyes, hands shaking uncontrollably and leaving a trail of angry, red marks emblazoned on soft, brown skin. In the silence, his heartbeat resonated against the bedroom walls, reaching his ears in loud, staccato echoes of _I miss him, I want him, I love him._

But as the sobs subsided and as tears no longer poured from his sore eyes, Lance felt strangely empty. He allowed his body to be pulled under by a strong, powerful current. A wave of exhaustion washed over him, his head collapsing on top of Shiro’s shoulder, suddenly too heavy to bear. His eyelids fluttered closed, grip loosening around Keith’s knuckles, still cradled between his fingers. His heart slowed down, down, down.

And then he was falling.

Until he was swallowed whole by darkness, taken in the arms of a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

Lance woke up to his face pressed against a soft mattress, drool dripping from his parted lips and landing on clean, white sheets. His neck was sore from a night spent sitting on a chair and his muscles protested with each movement, achingly stiff.

He rolled his head to the side, releasing a satisfied groan at the cracking sound coming from the back of his neck, fingers massaging away the knots of tension littered there, pulling taut just below his skin.

He was caught in the middle of a yawn, mouth open wide when a voice startled him, nearly sending him flying from the chair.

“Good morning, red paladin.” Krolia said, sitting across from Lance on the other side of the bed, a ghost of a smile haunting the corners of her mouth. Her eyes sparked with barely contained amusement.

“G — Good morning.” Lance stuttered, rubbing away the remnants of sleep from his heavy-lidded eyes and purposefully ignoring the burning sensation quickly spreading across his cheeks. “And it’s —”

“Lance, I remember.” she said, cutting him short. Lance blinked back at her, mouth hanging open at the sight of her smile. It was a jarring sight, to say the least. He didn’t think he would ever grow used to seeing Krolia smile at him. “Did you sleep well?”

He swallowed thickly, frowning in confusion as he noticed the pointed, not so subtle stares Krolia was sending towards his hand, the one he had resting on top of the mattress. Looking down, he felt his body growing cold as all of his blood was being pumped towards his face. A beat passed in silence as he stared at his fingers, still curled around Keith’s knuckles.

Lance blanched, pulling his hand away in one swift movement, eyes open impossibly wide. He placed his sweaty palms on top of his thighs, protecting them from the scrutiny of Krolia’s gaze. There was a sharp glint in those dark orbs, indigo pools swirling with something Lance couldn’t quite put his finger on and that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. In moments like these, she reminded him of Commander Iverson, seeing how easily she managed to rattle his nerves with a single look.

“I, um, y — yeah, I guess I did.” Lance croaked out, chewing on his bottom lip. And, then, because he thought disclosing this information would somehow make things less embarrassing, he added, “H — Have you seen Shiro? He spent the night here with me.”

Krolia seemed unfazed over the fact that Shiro had slept there alongside them, which only caused Lance to stress further about the compromising position in which he had been found only moments ago with her son. Her _only_ son. Lance gulped loudly, hit with a growing curiosity towards galran customs and what was the average take on finding your half-galra son practically holding hands with some random human boy. Lance could only hope he wouldn’t have to compete in some variation of the Kral Zera… Or worse.

“He left not long ago to get some breakfast.”

“Oh, o — okay. Cool, cool, cool.” Lance mumbled.

He let out a string of silent curses inside his head, chiding himself mentally. He didn’t know what it was about Krolia that made him so nervous, as if he was being constantly measured and evaluated. Maybe it was the fact she could cut him into tiny pieces if she really wanted to, after working so many years for the Blade of Marmora. Or, maybe it was the fact she was related to Keith. Either way, whenever he was near her, Lance felt an almost intrinsic need to impress her. To be accepted, respected.

Suddenly, he became painfully aware of the weight of a short blade hanging from his hip, cold metal pressing against the outer side of his thigh. He didn’t have to look down to know he still had Keith’s knife with him, a gift he’d inherited from Krolia not long ago, as they sat side by side on an empty rooftop, light-years away from where they stood now. Perhaps it was time to give it back to her, to whom it rightfully belonged. Perhaps he should —

“Keith was right. You really are loud.” Krolia said, bringing Lance back to the present and away from the thoughts roaming around inside his head.

He frowned, mulling over her words.

“But I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking too much. I could practically hear your mind working from here.” she spoke in that unnervingly collected tone only she and Kolivan seemed to be able to muster.

Lance blinked once, then another time after that, his interest picked at a small piece of information Krolia had let slip past her lips.       

“You and Keith seem to talk a lot about me, huh?” he asked, peering at Krolia through his lashes. She gave him what he thought was the galran equivalent of a shrug in response.

“When we were in the quantum abyss we talked about many things. Mostly about all that I missed during those years apart.” Krolia said after a beat of silence, eyes straying to where Keith was laid, brimming with regret and longing and love. So much _love_.

Lance felt the urge to look away, as if he had just intruded in an intimate moment. As if he belonged anywhere else but there, with the two of them.

“I learned that life on Earth had not been kind to him and that he experienced things growing up that no child should ever have to.” she said, brushing away inky strands of hair from his face. Lance felt his chest growing smaller, ribs closing in around his heart. “He’s been through so much… I can’t help but feel guilty for not being there for him when he needed me the most.”

Lance laced his fingers together on his lap to prevent him from reaching out to Krolia, aching to comfort her in the only way he knew how. Growing up in a big family, Lance was constantly surrounded by people, basking in the warmth coming from their bodies with every hug, every kiss on the cheek and on the tip of his nose. But he doubted Krolia would feel comfortable being on the receiving end of one of Lance’s overly affectionate hugs. She was all hard edges and sharp glares. A Galra soldier, a spy for the Blade of Marmora, a mother who was forced to leave her only child behind while she fought a thousand-yeard-old war. A hug wouldn’t be enough to placate her heart. Nothing would ever be enough.

“You didn’t have a choice.” Lance said, thinking back to what Keith told him long ago in the training deck. How he’d left to protect him. Because he cared. Too much, too deeply. _He cared, he cared, he cared._ “You were in the middle of a war. If you hadn’t left maybe the Galra would have found you and Keith might not be here today. Besides, he was not always alone. He had Shiro.”

Krolia furrowed her brows back at him, piercing his chest with her eyes and having a glimpse of his heart, bleeding and broken.

“You know, my mamá used to say everything happens for a reason.” Lance said and there was a far-off quality to his voice as he thought about his mother, light-years away, waiting for him back home, waiting for him to come back to her. “I mean, you and Keith found each other again, right? It took some time, but you’re together now and that’s all that matters.”

Krolia broke the silence that had been steadily growing between them, a bittersweet smile tugging at her full, lilac lips. Lance nearly fell from his chair, caught completely off guard at the familiarity of that smile, having seen it countless times before on Keith’s lips.

“Thank you, Lance.” she said, eyes bright and honest. Lance could feel himself blushing once again, being at the other end of that look. He would never get used to it. Not now, not in a million years. “I’m glad my son has someone like you at his side. Life may not have been always kind to him, but it gave him a home and a family with Voltron and the rest of the paladins. With you.”

Lance took a quick, furtive glance at Keith. He had dark circles under his eyes, face pale and ashen, drained of color. He looked sick, hair sticking to his clammy forehead as if he’d been running a fever, but his skin was cold to the touch.

He let out a shaky breath, standing up and startling Kosmo awake, laid at the feet of the chair. Krolia followed him with her eyes, a single eyebrow raised in silent questioning.

“I — I should go. I haven’t eaten anything since last night and I’m kinda hungry.” Lance lied, belly deadly silent. He scratched the back of his head, averting Krolia’s gaze, afraid she might be able to see past the defenses he had built around him. “I’ll just… Leave you two alone.”

He gave Keith one last look before scurrying away, exhaling in relief at the sound of the automatic doors closing behind him. His heart was beating at a rapid pace, blood pumping loud in his ears. He thought he might have thrown up right then and there if his stomach hadn’t been so empty.

Lance closed his eyes, collapsing against the nearest wall and throwing his head back with a sigh, flinching slightly at the feel of having cold metal being pressed against the nape of his neck.

When he opened his eyes again, a heartbeat later, Kosmo was standing at his feet, watching him with curious eyes. Lance snorted a low chuckle, shaking his head at the cosmic wolf who insisted on trailing his every step, like a dutiful shadow.

“Shouldn’t you be in there with Keith?” Lance asked, kneeling on the floor and running his fingers across the soft fur of Kosmo’s neck.

When he pulled away, Kosmo licked the side of his face, leaving a sticky trail of saliva. Lance let out a short laugh, wiping the moist from his cheek with his sleeve.

“Okay, okay, you can come with me. But you better behave yourself ‘cause I don’t wanna be banished from the cafeteria. That means no begging for food from other people’s tables.” Lance said, standing up to his full height once again. Kosmo barked in response, wagging his tail. “You know, Kosmo, sometimes I wonder if you can understand what I’m saying. I mean, you’re a teleporting space wolf, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you actually did.”

Lance practically dragged his leg down the corridor, each step sparking a flare of pain from the outer side of his thigh, going all the way down to the sole of his foot. He had yet to see what his injuries looked like underneath the layers of bandages, but looking down at the scars on his hands he thought he might have an idea of what he might find. More stitches, more scars, more nightmares to keep him awake at night.

Kosmo bumped his muzzle against his fingers, a quiet whimper leaving his throat. Lance smiled down at him, wondering if he was able to pick up on the sudden change in his humor, if he could scent the shadows quickly approaching.

He was about to ask Kosmo if he could teleport them to the cafeteria instead and spare him the pain when a door slid open to his left. Lance came to a stop, staring blankly at the familiar crown of dark, curly hair and brown skin.

“Veronica?”

From where Lance stood, he could see her posture becoming stiff, her shoulders squaring up. Slowly, she turned around; blue eyes staring back at him from behind thick lenses.

“Lance? Shouldn’t you be in bed?” she asked, a frown carved between her brows.

“I was feeling better, so they let me go.” he said with a shrug, only partially a lie. Veronica hummed in response, oddly quiet. “What are you doing here?”

And, all of a sudden, Veronica found herself unable to stare Lance back in the eye, choosing to catalogue the dirty specks of dust marring her boots instead. He frowned, a prickling sensation climbing at the nape of his neck when he caught sight of a flush of color on her cheeks.

“Who’s in that room?” he asked, pointing at the door he’d just seen her come out from.

Veronica brushed a curl of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her eyes were still far, far away. Her cheeks were still burning a bright shade of red.

“It’s, um, Acxa.” she said, sounding almost sheepish. “I was just checking up on her after, you know…”

Lance knew.

There was no need for any other words. The memory of Acxa jumping in front of a blade for him was still fresh, forever emblazoned behind his eyelids. How quickly she’d came for his rescue, how selflessly she’d put his life before her own. As if he was something _more_. More deserving, more needed.

Lance also knew she’d done it out of guilt.

Guilt over what she’d done to Keith, to him, to the rest of the paladins. All the pain and the suffering her actions had put them through. Lance understood guilt, he’d become well acquainted with it during the past years, walking amongst all the loss and the death and the ruins wrought by war. Guilt for not being able to do more. Guilt for not coming to their aid sooner. Guilt for not being stronger, for not being faster.

Lance thought that perhaps he understood Acxa a little bit better now.

“How is she?” he asked, barely audible as thorns budded in the walls of his throat.

“She’s… Better, I guess. The doctors said it’s gonna be a slow recovery, but they’re optimistic.”

Lance nodded, exhaling softly as the thorns unraveled, slowly coming undone.

“So, does that mean you talked to her?”

“Yeah, I — I did. We… Talked.” she said, barely managing to get the words out. Lance bit back a smile.

“That’s good. I’m happy for you, Ronnie.”

“Y — Yeah, it was good.” Veronica met his eyes and he knew she must have been able to see right through his pursed lips, to the smile hidden underneath. “Don’t say it, Lance.”

“Say what?”

“The whole _I told you so_ speech. Don’t say it.”

Lance raised his eyebrows, looking back at a flustered, blushing Veronica. It was a rare sight he only remembered seeing a handful of times while growing up and it usually involved some other girl, the only difference now being that they had all been human.

Lance wondered if maybe, after all these years, he finally discovered that he did in fact share one thing in common with Veronica. He just never expected it to be their taste in half-galrans. The thought was laughable, if not a little tragic giving the current circumstances.

“I don’t have to ‘cause you already did.” he said, lips crooked into a satisfied smirk. Veronica rolled her eyes at him.

“I hate you.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

Veronica didn’t say anything, but Lance could see the slight twitch of her lips under the artificial lights, curling upwards into a shy smile.

“ _So_ ,” he began, hiding his hands in his pockets and dragging that single syllable for much longer than necessary. Veronica eyed him expectantly. “Are you hungry? I was gonna get breakfast. You could tag along, if you feel like it.”

Her smile grew a fraction wider.

“Are you sure your dog won’t bite me?”

“First of all, he’s not a _dog_.” Lance said with perhaps too much energy, earning a low snicker from Veronica. “And secondly, he won’t bite you. Kosmo is a sweetheart.”

Lance ran his fingers between Kosmo’s wolfish ears, scratching under his chin and across the thick necklace of fur around his neck. His eyes caught a glint of Kosmo’s fanged teeth, bared at him in what he thought could almost pass for a smile.

“See? He’s a good boy.”

“Whatever you say, Lance.” Veronica said, turning on her heels as she made her way down the empty corridor.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

Veronica paused, narrowing her eyes at Lance.

“To the cafeteria… You said you were hungry, remember?”

“Oh, okay, I just… I know a way we could get there faster.” he said, reaching out his hand for a slightly confused and severely suspicious Veronica. Hesitantly, she made her way back to him, weaving their fingers together. With his free hand, Lance held on to Kosmo. “Hold on tight and, no matter what happens, don’t let go.”

“Lance, what are you —”

But Veronica’s words were swallowed under a wave of light, a humming of a thousand bees swarming their ears with static. Lance thought he could hear her screams, her grip tightening around his knuckles, nails digging into skin. A sting. A distant echo. And then nothing.

The cafeteria was relatively empty, with only a couple of tables being occupied by a handful of officers that seemed unable to tear their eyes away from Kosmo. Lance wasn’t entirely sure if they were annoyed at the cosmic wolf in the middle of the cafeteria or simply mystified by his teleporting abilities. They _had_ arrived in a flare of light, after all, seemingly coming from nowhere.

Lance did his best to ignore the stares, focusing instead on the plate of food before him. His stomach grumbled at the mouthwatering sight, licking his lips hungrily before taking a first bite and silently thanking every star in the universe for Hunk. If it weren’t for him, they would be stuck eating food goo for the entirety of their journey back to Earth.

“Maybe breakfast was a bad idea.” Veronica grumbled, burying her face behind her arms on top of the table. “I think I’m gonna get sick.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

* * *

 

Veronica did _not_ get used to it, running off to the nearest bathroom as soon as they materialized back at the medical ward. Lance waited for her by the door, with Kosmo dutifully stationed at his feet, as still and quiet as a statue.

When Veronica re-emerged in the hallway, fifteen painfully long minutes later, she looked somewhat better; her lips less pale, her face no longer an ugly, sickly shade of green, having returned to its natural honey-like brown. Lance watched as she put her glasses back on, running her fingers through thick locks of hair before pulling the curly strands up in a high bun.

“Feeling any better?” he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow at her.

Veronica released a sigh, long and heavy with unabashed relief.

“ _Yes_.” she breathed out. Lance fought the urge to laugh. “God, I’m never doing this again. _Ever_.”

“Oh, c’mon, Ronnie! Was it really so bad?”

Veronica opened her mouth but before she could get any words out, she was interrupted by a loud, buzzing sound. And, then, as she fished out the communicator device from her pocket, it was as if teleporting wolves and upset stomachs had never existed. A smile grew between her lips, her entire face lighting up from the inside out, a force too strong, too powerful to be contained.

She had laughing eyes, Lance noticed. That look she always got whenever she was happy, uncontrollably so. It was usually reserved for Christmas’ mornings and family dinners, or for the carnivals held in their hometown during summer when a soft breeze blew the hair away from their faces and the sun shone bright against an endless expanse of clear, blue sky.

Lance felt a pang at the memory. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the beach; the tingling sensation of having his skin drenched in sunlight, the waves breaking against the shore, white foam and golden sand covering his toes. How long has it been since he last set foot on a beach? On Varadero?

He couldn’t be sure.

“Sorry. I have to go, Lance.” he heard her say, apology hanging from her lips. “I’ll come find you later, okay?”

But she sounded distant and he could do nothing other than stare, drowned in the most deafening silence, as she walked further, further, further away. Until all he could make out was the sinuous shape of her silhouette, shadow stretching in a narrow dark line across the floor.

                It took a moment for Lance to regain the feeling of his legs, for his body to be made flesh once again instead of cold, hard stone. He took a breath, then another. Steady and patient and controlled. All the things he was not. Only then, did he take a step forward, a foot in front of the other. Steady, patient, controlled. Kosmo followed, like he always did. And Lance gingerly ran the tip of his fingers across the thick coat of fur on his back, like he always did.

It was familiar in its simplicity and he could pretend, for a second lost in time, that he was home. On Earth. At the Garrison. His mamá waiting for him at the dinner table. Keith greeting him with a smile before their sparing sessions at the training deck. Kosmo climbing on top of his bed at night, snuggling closer to his back and crumpling the sheets under his paws.

The moment didn’t last long.

Thoughts and dreams of home shattered under the cumbersome weight of reality. A reality where they were travelling through space, saving other worlds and ending ancient wars, bringing peace to the known universe. A reality where Zarkon was dead, the Galra Empire defeated, Haggar gone.

A reality where they had _won_.

They had survived.

They had _won_.

They had found Keith.

Lance should be happy.

But it felt like something was still missing.

Alone in an empty hallway that only hours ago was bustling with people, scared of the boy locked away behind those walls, Lance looked through the glass. He could have a glimpse of Keith. A little hazy, a little blurred around the edges, slightly fading into the background, like the stuff from dreams.

Lance placed a palm flat against the surface of the glass, cold sipping through his skin. He forced his legs to move, to take a step closer, to peer inside the sterile room.

And there was Keith, a flare of color adrift in a sea of white. His hands were still chained to the bed, forced to share his body with a creature that knew nothing other than pain and destruction. But his eyes were open, wide awake. Krolia sat by his side, a hand coming to rest on his cheek, every gesture pouring with motherly affection. Lance couldn’t help but find it strange to see Krolia that way, so open and vulnerable, nothing like the ruthless soldier he’d grown accustomed to. Shiro stood at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed, watching Keith with fierce intent.

On the other side of the glass, Keith didn’t put any effort into relieving himself from the cuffs binding his wrists and ankles. He remained utterly still, lips unmoving, eyes like a pair of obsidian gemstones.

Steady.

Patient.

Controlled.

He was all the things Lance was not, all the things he could never be.

Next to him, Kosmo made a small noise, a strange hybrid between a whimper and a bark. Lance lowered his gaze at the wolf at his feet, only to find those gold-rimmed eyes staring back at him, head slightly tilted to the side, as if asking him if he was going to venture inside.

Lance lifted his eyes from the floor and looked at Keith, lying on an infirmary bed at the far end of the room, unaware of his presence hovering outside, just beyond that wall. He ached to cross those doors, to extinguish the space lingering between their bodies, to touch and be touched. To see and be seen.

Lance closed his hands into fists, craving for the strength to tear down the barriers standing in his way, to climb over its ruins and disappear into a cloud of dust.

Keith was smiling. It was barely a stretch of lips, brittle and clumsy and a little jagged around the edges, but a smile nonetheless. Lance thought he could feel the exact moment his heart stopped beating inside his chest, coming to a staggering halt. It was but an instant suspended in time, brief and over before he could fully comprehend it.

He thought of Shiro’s words, that he too was part of Keith’s tiny family. That there was a place for him in there, with them.

But what did that make him then?

A paladin? A friend? A boy with a broken heart?

He didn’t know.

Lance felt like an intruder. Out of place. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Something crawled just below the surface, simmering bright and hot, creeping under his skin. It was sharp thorns and long claws and fanged teeth. Prickling, scratching, biting, craving for release.

Who was he to Keith?

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know.

* * *

 

At night — or what could pass as night time when you were travelling through space —, Lance would lay awake in bed, unable to fall asleep, his mind reeling with thoughts of Keith. Thoughts that devoured, hungry and all-consuming, eating him raw.

He should have stayed a little longer.

He should have gone inside.

He shouldn’t have run.

He should have, he should have, he should —

With a loud groan, Lance tossed the covers aside, feeling too hot all of a sudden; skin clammy with sweat, his insides burning. The room had grown stuffy, suffocating; the air around him becoming heavy, weighting down on his chest and making it harder to breathe. He turned around on the mattress, struggling to find a comfortable position. He missed Kosmo and the reassuring presence of another body lying there beside him. A solid, warm pressure against his back. Lance turned on his stomach and buried his face in the pillow. His breath came out in muffled puffs of air.

He waited for the shadows to creep in, for sleep to come and take him far, far away. But his body only grew restless, mind racing with too many thoughts, ears humming with an insistent buzz. Lance closed his eyes, craving for silence, hoping for a rush of blood to drown the voices whispering inside his head. His thoughts were too loud, too fast, too much.

Careful not to brush against any of the fresh bruises scattered over his body, Lance disentangled himself from underneath crumpled sheets and jumped out of bed, crossing the automatic doors clad only in his pajamas, not bothering to change into more suitable clothes before storming outside.

A loud hiss left his lips as the doors closed behind him, cold prickling at the soles of his bare feet, as if he had stepped on a blanket woven in thousands of needles made of ice.

Walking aimlessly down the dimly lit corridors, Lance couldn’t help but think that maybe he should have taken the time to at least put some shoes on. But there was no point dueling on it now. If felt like it had been hours since he left his room, idly slithering by identical sets of doors, counting his footsteps one by one as he went. At some point during his nightly stroll, the cold had stopped bothering him. He wasn’t sure if he had simply grown used to it or if Red was the one sending him some of her heat to keep him warm.

Lance felt some of the energy he had been keeping bottled up inside slowly liquify, all of his fears and frustrations and pent-up anger fading into nothingness, engulfed by the shadows lurking around each corner he turned, leaving him with a strange sense of calm. Waves of anxiousness no longer crashed against the walls of his stomach, dissolving into tranquil tides, the water clear and inviting.

 _Here_ , whispered a voice in the back of his mind and he stopped walking altogether. It felt, for a moment, like he had lost control over his body, like an invisible hand had been hovering high above his head, pulling at the phantom strings connected to his limbs.

Lance’s lips broke into a watery smile, a humorless chuckle itching to fly past his lips. He never gave much thought on where he was going, only that he could no longer stay in bed, suffocating under those heavy covers, choking on air, body running feverish. But the fact remained that he had somehow wandered back towards the medical ward, finding his way to a familiar set of doors.

He heard the distinct sound of a voice coming from the other side of those walls, a loose string of broken words and ragged breathing. Looking through the glass, he saw a silhouette made entirely of shadows, the only light coming from the distant glow of dying stars, sparkling diamonds hovering in the air. His brows furrowed into a frown when his eyes landed on a familiar mop of black hair, skin as white as the moon.

“Keith.” Lance breathed out, watching as he rolled around on top of the bed, tangling himself in the sheets.

Without thinking, lost in some kind of trance or driven by phantom fingers, Lance pressed his hand to the locking mechanism by the doors and they opened with a soft hissing sound. He approached the bed with silent steps, half expecting to wake up Kosmo, who slept soundly at the foot of the bed. His eyes were intent on the large lump moving beneath the sheets.

In the quiet of space, Lance was able to hear the rapid beat of his own heart with crystal clarity. How the blood rushed inside his veins, pumping loud and strong. Unrelenting. How the echoes reached his ears in tiny explosions of sound, tuning out everything else around him.

Lance took another step forward, fingers thrumming with the need to touch. To feel the hardness of Keith’s chest, the warmth of his breath, the pounding of his heart. To make sure the boy he was looking at was there with him, solid and real, not a figment of his imagination.

A noise escaped Keith’s mouth, so terribly weak and fragile, it was no more than a whimper. Stars shone across his face, specks of silvery-white dust shimmering stark against thick, dark eyebrows, furrowed together as if in pain.

“L — Lance…”

His voice had been but a whisper, barely audible between heartbeats.

Lance inhaled sharply.

“Keith?”

Keith had his eyes closed, still asleep; lips trembling with the soft whispers of a plea, calling Lance’s name like a silent prayer.

And then Lance was surging forward, practically climbing on top of the narrow bed as he closed the distance between them, placing both of his hands on each of Keith’s shoulders and applying enough pressure to paint multicolored bruises on his skin, the shape of his fingers imprinted on white porcelain.

“Keith! Keith, wake up!” Lance could hear a distinct edge to his voice, like the spark of a lightning strike seconds before thunder rumbled in the skies. “I’m here, Keith. I’m right here.”

Keith woke up with a gasp, choking on his own breath. In a flash of motion, he was sitting upwards, chest heaving and shoulders shaking. His eyes found Lance a beat later, wide and dark and beautiful. Lance found himself caving in to the sheer intensity of that gaze, his walls falling to pieces, any semblance of self-control crumbling to dust.

His hand had climbed from Keith’s shoulder to the side of his neck, chasing after the echoes of his heartbeat. Lance watched in absolute awe as white skin turned a deep shade of red, warming to the touch. Keith’s lips fluttered open, then closed. Silence lingered between them, thick and impenetrable. Lance wanted to be the one to break it, but words had lost all meaning to him. All he could do was stand there, tongue-tied, sitting on the edge of Keith’s bed and staring into his eyes. _God, those eyes…_ He could tumble on the edge of the world and fall into those dark waves, losing himself to the starless depths of those orbs.

“Lance?”

Keith breathed out his name, lost in a haze.

Lance brushed away the frown carved between his brows, thumb tracing the slight bow of those thick eyebrows with a featherlight touch. He thought he could spend hours just like that, staring into the open flame burning bright blue in those eyes, unable to look away. Lance felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. A soft pull, barely there.

“There you are.” he said.

Keith blinked. Once, twice.

“Where else would I be?” he asked in return.

 _I don’t know_ , Lance felt like saying, words heavy on his tongue, _somewhere far._

Somewhere no one else could reach him. No one but Lance, apparently. The thought was strangely comforting, if only a little revolting. Lance wanted to scream. Until his lungs gave out and his throat became raw and sore and his voice nothing but a frail wisp of sound bleeding out from his lips.

_Who was he to Keith?_

Still, he didn’t know.

All he knew was Keith, with his open eyes and his chapped lips and inky-black hair falling in stark contrast against his alabaster skin.

“You’re awake.” Lance blurted out in a ragged pant of breath. Keith narrowed his eyes at him, head falling a fraction to the side, off-kilter.

“I’m… Awake.” he echoed, a lost look on his face.

His eyebrows were knotted together in confusion, his bottom lip puckered out in clear frustration, and the image was so painfully reminiscent of the Keith from before, so undeniably _him_ , that it stirred something inside Lance. Something he’d thought to be long gone, forever lost to a time when his life wasn’t plagued with war and heartbreak.

Lance straightened up, hit with the sudden urge to laugh. He felt electric, fingers fidgeting with an old sense of restlessness, veins thrumming with an insistent buzz. He felt as though there was a bird trapped inside his chest, flapping its wings and ready to take flight, soaring high, high, higher.

Because there was Keith. Alive. Awake. Bright-eyed and real. Looking like he used to. Talking like he used to. Just as he was, just as he had always been. Keith, with his fiery temper and his molten heart, with eyes that held entire galaxies in them and a smile made of starlight. Keith, with his calloused hands and his blood-smeared fingertips. Keith, who had left the only family he’d ever known so Lance wouldn’t have to. Who never once stopped believing in him, even when he couldn’t. _Especially_ when he couldn’t. Keith, who cared about Lance’s feelings more than his own.

There was _Keith_.

The boy who had protected him, cried for him. Who had called out his name so many times Lance could no longer remember what it felt like to hear it falling from another pair of lips. It belonged to him now. He had taken it between the leather on his palms and locked it in a place only he knew, where no one else would ever be able to steal it back.

 _I’m yours_ , Lance wanted to say, _I belong to you._

But the words got stuck between his lungs and what came out instead was a weak, “You’re awake.”

“I am.” Keith said, eyes guarded as he stared back at Lance. “And so are you.”

 _Am I?_ Lance thought, unsure.

His eyes were open, but he felt as though he was still asleep, caught in a dream, drifting through a maze of memories. Cold hands and burning eyes. The smell of smoke and earth and blood filling his nostrils, the taste of something bitter swimming on his tongue, a tidal washing his insides, leaving him sick and a little bit nauseous. Lance felt the world shift beneath his feet, but he refused to move along with it. He remained where he was, where he’d always been.

“I don’t feel like I am.” Lance said, words lost to the silence. And, then, even lower, “You were having a nightmare.”

Keith averted his eyes, as if he had been caught doing something shameful. Lance placed a hand on the side of his face, forcing their eyes to meet again. He took small pleasure in that hitch of breath caught between Keith’s throat and lips, knowing he had been the one to cause the flush of color that now painted his cheeks and pretending for a moment that he was allowed to touch Keith that way, with such tenderness.

Lance could feel the muscles moving just below the surface of Keith’s skin, clenched tight with tension, teeth gritted together. Keith’s eyes held an entire realm of shadows in them, not a single star shining through. His face was like a door falling shut, leaving Lance alone on the other side.

“What are you doing here, Lance?” he asked, voice hoarse from lack of use.

This time, when Keith said his name, it felt as if thorns were piercing his ears. Sharp, deep. Lance was left stung, slowly suffocating as vines climbed up his body, prickling at the tip of his fingers, binding his wrists together, circling around his throat and pouring poison into his bloodstream.

The moment shattered and Lance felt his heart lose a beat as it plummeted to the bottom of his stomach, falling from its strings, a weight too heavy to carry. And, one by one, Lance watched as his fingers fell from the edge of Keith’s jaw. Until there was nothing but air between them, cold and empty.

“I — I was just…” Lance stuttered. But the words wouldn’t come, his lips wouldn’t move. He choked on air each time he so much as tried to open his mouth. “I couldn’t sleep and I — I kept thinking about you.”

He flinched at the sound of his voice cracking at that last word, cursing himself mentally at how weak he sounded to his own ears. Lance cleared his throat before continuing, a bit rushed.

“I guess I just needed to see you one more time, you know? To make sure.”

“Mare sure of what?” Keith asked after a beat.

Lance followed the shadows as they left the side of his face, cast away by the shimmering light of the stars outside as the Atlas cut a seamless line through them, a trail of silver clouds left behind. Keith hardly felt real, with his luminous skin and his glowing eyes, more celestial being than boy. Beautiful and unattainable.

Lance parted his lips and in one, soft exhale the words poured out of him.

“That I’m not dreaming.”

They sat in silence after that, and as he waited for Keith to say something, Lance was finally able to give a proper name to the clenching sensation at the base of his stomach, the one he’d been feeling since he first set foot in this room.

Fear.

The fear of being seen, of being known, of having his heart under his sleeve, such a fragile thing left vulnerable and exposed.

In Lance’s mind, the silence lasted a small eternity. But, in reality, it couldn’t have lasted more than a couple seconds.

“Lance…” Keith mumbled softly, almost like he hadn’t meant for Lance to hear him.

The air was thick with all the words left unspoken between them and pressure built inside Lance’s chest, an all-encompassing weight filling the empty spaces between his ribs, making it harder to breathe.

“You called my name.” Lance murmured, like a sinful confession. Keith lifted his eyes back at him, unblinking. “You were having a nightmare and I — I heard you calling out my name.”

A breathy exhale left Keith’s lips and sent a shiver down Lance’s spine, words settling between them with a cloud of dust, bringing their walls down.

Lance could hardly recognize Keith’s voice as his own, pulled taut at the seams.

“I hurt you.” he said.

Keith used words like he yielded knives, ruthlessly and with cold precision. Lance was reminded of what it felt like to be on the other end of his blade, a gut-wrenching feeling shooting through his stomach.

“W — What?”

“In the nightmare.” Keith explained and a breathless _“Oh”_ escaped Lance’s unattended lips. “I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to —”

Their eyes met and the words died on Keith’s tongue as realization slowly dawned on him. Lance thought he could trail the exact path Keith’s eyes made across every inch of his exposed skin. Careful, meticulous. How they lingered on his neck, where he could feel the coarse material of bandages wrapped tightly around a fresh stabbing wound. How they lowered to the multicolored bruises painting his collarbone, peaking from the collar of his shirt. How he committed them to memory.

Lance brought a hand to the side of his neck, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the countless bruises painting his body in dark, mottled colors; how white the gauze covering them must look in stark contrast against his brown skin.

“It wasn’t just a dream, was it?” Keith asked, words wobbly as they left his trembling lips.

Lance felt his entire body recoil in response, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast, as if he could somehow grow smaller, smaller, until disappearing completely from sight.

“Lance.” Keith’s voice was as sharp as a luxite blade, tearing through Lance’s chest, through flesh and bone alike. “Lance, tell me. Look, I — I need to know. I _need_ to know, okay? So, please, just… Tell me.”

Lance tried to swallow, wincing at how dry his throat felt, its walls covered in sandpaper.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d remember.” he retorted in a lint of voice, peering through his lashes to meet Keith’s gaze, black as blood in the moonlight.

“Did I do this to you?” Keith forced the words out, almost like it pained him to do so. “Did I… Hurt you?”

Lance saw terror shining bright in those twilight colored eyes, as searing as a setting sun and just as bitter. Heat overflowed his insides, blood like molten lava licking his veins. His heart burned.

He gripped Keith’s hand, fingers pressing hard against the soft skin of his wrist, bruised from bearing the weight of those metal cuffs for so long. His pulse fluctuated under Lance’s thumb, rising like an ocean tide. Lance hauled him closer; foreheads touching, eyes made out of blue flames blazing in the dark, mouths hanging open with bated breath.

But it was not close enough.

It was never close enough.

“Keith, don’t.” Lance hissed through his teeth, clawing on to Keith. “Don’t even think about it, do you hear me? You — You didn’t do anything. It wasn’t _you_.”

Lance heaved a sigh at the bone-crushing sensation of having Keith’s fingers around his, holding on to him just as tightly, just as desperately.

“It was.” he croaked out, eyes falling shut as a tear fell from his lashes. “It was me.”  
                “No.” Lance shook his head, digging his blunt nails into Keith’s wrist. And, then, stronger, “ _No_ , Keith. I know you. I spent the last four years getting to know you and there’s no way you would ever hurt any of us.”

“But I did, Lance! I — I did. I hurt you. Just… Look at you!” Keith cried out, pulling away with a hard shove and nearly sending Lance off-balance, mattress bouncing underneath his legs. “I did this to you. I — I could have killed you. I could have —”

“But you didn’t!” Lance could hear the cracks in his voice, shards of glass piercing his ears. “You didn’t, Keith. I’m still here.”

His hands found Keith’s face, the tip of his fingers disappearing behind a curtain of black hair, as soft and as dark as a raven’s feathers. Keith stared back at him, silvery-white pearls hanging dangerously low from his long lashes. Lance held on to those eyes, grip tightening around loose strands of hair.

“I’m still here.” he said, softer this time. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Keith shook his head and his bangs covered his eyes. His hair fell unruly over his shoulders, longer than what Lance remembered.

“You shouldn’t be here, Lance.”

“I’m not gonna leave you, Keith. I’m not letting you push me away this time.”

Keith didn’t say anything. All he did was stare, long and hard. His eyes searched Lance’s face, looking for the truth.

Lance stared back at him in sheer defiance, fingers curling around cold metal as he pulled at the restraints on Keith’s wrists, slowly, purposefully as if to prove a point. Keith went awfully still as the metal bracelets crumbled to pieces on top of the mattress.

“Lance, what are you doing?”

“I’m not afraid of you, Keith.” Lance said, adamant. “You would never hurt me. Not like this.”

“You don’t know that. I’m not in control, Lance.”

“I don’t care.” Lance said briskly, a firm note to his voice. “You came back to me once. You’ll come back to me again.”

“Lance, don’t do this.” Keith begged and there was an edge to his voice, as if it was on the verge of breaking. “Put them back on. It’s not safe. Please, Lance. I don’t — I don’t wanna hurt you again.”

Lance leaned in closer, closer, close enough for his breath to touch Keith’s lips. Warm and feathery. No more than a fleeting, distant memory of a kiss. Through a dream-like haze, Lance traced the curve of Keith’s mouth, flicking his eyes towards Keith’s a heartbeat later.

“You won’t.” came as a whisper, barely audible. “I trust you, Keith.”

Keith inhaled sharply, chest unmoving as he held the air captive inside his lungs for a moment longer.

And then he had his hands on Lance, touching all over him. Across every inch of exposed skin his fingers could find, across every crevice, every hidden spot. Behind his ears and down his back, counting each one of his vertebrae, feeling every small lump raised beneath the fabric of his shirt. His hands ran a slippery path down the sinuous curves of his thighs, his waist, finding solace on his chest, where his heart beat at a frantic pace.

Lance took a sharp intake of breath, suddenly all too aware of his freshly healed wounds, flesh still tender and sensitive. But Keith was surprisingly gentle, grazing nothing more than his fingertips over the bandages covering his arm and neck, haunted by the ghost of a touch. The skin around it was an angry shade of red, still slightly puffy from the trauma, but no longer bleeding. Keith’s hands drew a pleasurable kind of pain, deep and all-consuming. He was a tidal wave swallowing him whole. An earthquake shifting the ground beneath his feet. An electrical storm raging under his skin, causing the hairs on both of his arms to stand on end.

“Does it still hurt?” Keith asked quietly. Lance nodded, voice lost somewhere deep inside. “I’m sorry, Lance. I never meant for any of this to happen. I — I never wanted to hurt you.”

Looking at the pain reflected in Keith’s eyes, Lance had never felt as close to him as he did then, almost as if they shared some unspoken understanding. Something powerful, devastating in its own nature, ingrained deep into the fabric of their souls. As if they were bound together, caught in a web woven from the red strings of fate. Born from the same star, made out of a single particle of cosmic dust.

Lance thought he could feel his mouth moving, his voice meeting his ears in the form of a plea. A prayer whispered into the endless night.

“Keith, I —”

“Stay.” Keith exhaled, so openly tender Lance could feel himself melting against his body, boneless. “Stay here with me. Don’t go.”

Lance breathed out Keith’s name, again and again, like something sacred.

They moved together as one, falling onto the bed with their bodies intertwined, perfectly attuned to one another. Keith had his arms around Lance’s waist, climbing towards his shoulders, mindful of his wounds as Lance sank against him, comfortably nested in the space between his thighs.

He buried his face in Keith’s collarbone, inhaling that familiar scent, nosing along the lines of his neck and jaw. A long, contented sigh left his lips.

Keith drew invisible patterns across the expanse of his back, skimming his fingertips between his shoulder blades and up the nape of his neck, diving in a sea of chocolate brown curls. Every touch was like a brush stroke on a blank canvas. Passionate. Deeply felt. Almost reverent. Lance shuddered, arching into Keith’s touch and digging his fingers into the solid muscles of his chest, ears catching the faintest of sounds leaving his lips. There was nothing delicate about the way he clutched against Keith’s side, terrified of the thought of letting go.

“I’m sorry.” Keith said, impossibly low. His lips brushed Lance’s temple, breath warm against his skin. “I’m sorry, Lance.”

“Stop apologizing for that. You weren’t in control of your body, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m not talking about that.” Keith’s voice pulled at the muscles on his back like the string of a bow and Lance went awfully still on top of him. “I’m sorry I left. I thought I was doing the right thing, that I was protecting you. But I was wrong.”

“Keith, don’t —”

“No, let me finish.” Keith said, cutting him short. Lance clamped his mouth shut. “I ran away, Lance. I was scared and I — I didn’t know what to do, so I just… I ran, like I’ve been doing all my life.”

Lance was transported back to a time when they were stranded in outer space, when their Lions were lost and they thought all hope was gone. Memories flashed behind his eyelids, words burned in the back of his mind, leaving a bitter aftertaste on his tongue, chest heavy with heartbreak.

“I didn’t mean it.” Lance said, no heat to the words coming from his lips. “Those things I told you when we were all lost in space.  I didn’t mean any of it. I was just hurt, I guess.”

_I missed you._

His throat itched with the need to say the words out loud, but something held him back. Lance closed his eyes, a sigh leaving his mouth instead. He listened to the beat of Keith’s heart, muffled under layers of clothing, skin and bone. He counted each one of his breaths. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

_I never stopped missing you._

And when he finally gathered the courage to part his lips and actually _say_ the words, he almost didn’t sound like himself, a far-off quality to his voice.

“Sometimes I still can’t believe you’re back here, with us.” _With me_ , he added as a mental note, something that belonged only to him and no one else. Keith’s arms tightened around him.

“Yeah, me too.”

Lance thought about all those sleepless nights back at the Garrison, all the times he’d fled his bed in the dead of night, chased by terrible nightmares. He thought about the mornings when he had to drag his body down empty corridors as though there was an iron ball wrapped around his ankles, cursing himself and the universe for having to leave his room when all he wanted was to hide under the covers.

But in that moment, with Keith’s arms around him and with his head nested on Keith’s chest, it all felt like a distant memory. There was only them and the echo of their heartbeats, impossibly loud in the oppressive silence of the room.

Lance tried to fight against the fatigue slowly settling on his bones, but he could already feel himself drifting away, eyelids weighting heavily as fingers ran up and down his spine, the rise and fall of Keith’s chest lulling him to sleep. His mind grew quiet, body loosening as he was pulled into the dark, for once not afraid of what he might find lurking in there.

* * *

 

For what felt like the first time in days, Lance had managed to sleep through the whole night, safe from the plague of nightmares. He opened his eyes to the stars outside, burning just as bright as before, lighting their way back home. He leaned back against the warm body lying next to his, groaning in stark relief as he stretched his sore limbs. The pain in his arm had settled to a dull, insistent throb; the skin surrounding his bandages slightly paler than the day before, no longer a bright, searing red. Lance thought that must be a good sign, that the medicine he was given was finally working.

“Morning.” Keith mumbled above him, voice husky from sleep, coming out muffled as lips brushed against the top of his head.

Lance turned around in Keith’s arms, still circling his waist, caging him in a tight embrace, their bodies pressed close together just like the night before. He blinked away the remnants of a dreamless sleep and when their eyes met a small smile curved the corners of Keith’s mouth. Lance momentarily forgot how to breathe.

“H — Hey, good morning.” he stuttered, stumbling on his own tongue like the fool that he was. His cheeks burned a familiar red and, all of a sudden, he became hyper-aware of all the spots their bodies were touching, skin to skin. “Did you, um, did you sleep well?”

“Yeah.” Keith sighed, eyes fluttering closed. “I can’t even remember the last time I had a full night sleep.”

Lance frowned, lips thinning into a grim line as he mulled over the implication of Keith’s words, the untold atrocities that space witch had put him through, bad enough to keep him awake at night. His jaw ached, his teeth clenched tightly together. He closed a fist around the collar of Keith’s shirt, crumpling the thin fabric between his bruised knuckles.

“Lance.” Keith’s voice was hoarse and his fingers applied enough pressure to turn Lance’s skin a sickly shade of white. “Is everything okay? Are you in pain?”

Lance swallowed thickly, shaking his head.

“I’m fine.” he said, facing the arched gaze Keith sent his way. “I’m fine, I promise. I just hate thinking about you in that ship, alone in a prison cell, like some animal. I hate what Haggar’s done to you.”

“Lance…”

“I hate that I wasn’t there to protect you. I’m your right-hand man, I should have been there. I should have —”

“Lance.”

“I hate it, Keith. I hate all of it. I _hate_ it. I —”

“ _Lance_!” he bellowed. “Stop, okay? It wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault.”

Keith gripped his hands in a bone-crushing hold, earning a weak gasp from a bleary-eyed, open-mouthed Lance. He looked into the fathomless black of those eyes, flecks of stormy blues and pale lilacs drenched in starlight, vibrant sparks of color in an endless sea of dark and he watched as Keith turned his hand over, sprawling his fingers apart to have a look at his palm. He traced the scars littered there with his fingers, studying the jagged white lines carved deep into flesh. A frown set between his brows, deep in thought.

“What happened?” Keith asked, grazing his thumb against the inside of Lance’s wrist.

Lance was hit by a sudden wave of nausea, bile rushing from his stomach all the way up his throat at the memory.

“It was an accident.” he said, thinking about Keith’s blade, back in his room, where he kept it safe. “It looks a lot worse than what it is. I — I mean, it was barely even a scratch. I was just —”

But Lance didn’t have the chance to finish whatever he was about to ramble about, because Keith had taken his hand to his mouth, brushing his lips against each and every one of his fingers, so soft and light Lance almost thought he had imagined it. He pressed a lingering kiss on the center of his palm, across a patch of pearly white skin, as if Lance was something to worship.

Lance sucked in a startled breath as short tremors rocketed through his body, rattling his bones in ripples of pleasure and crumbling every coherent thought to a pile of dust. How could such a small gesture elicit such strong emotions? It was but a soft press of lips, almost chaste and yet capable of conveying such undeterred intimacy.

He could feel his cheeks flushed with warmth, his breath coming out in quick pants of air.

“K — Keith…”

His eyes tracked Keith’s face, as inscrutable as ever, but there was something about the way he was looking at him, as if stricken with a terrible hunger, a dangerous creature swimming in the depths of those dark orbs. Lance felt himself leaning in, allured by the near magnetic pull growing between them.

And then he was falling.

But he never got far because the doors to Keith’s bedroom whooshed open, bringing Lance to a startled halt only inches away from Keith’s face. The atmosphere was filled with the sounds of footsteps, followed by the echo of familiar voices, growing louder, clearer, closer. He quickly disentangled himself from Keith’s gravitational pull, struggling against an invisible force surrounding their bodies as he forced his eyes open, taking in reality for what it was. He and Keith, alone in his room. Together in bed. Feet tangled underneath the sheets. Hands touching, eyes meeting, breaths mingling.

“And you’re sure he’s not with Hunk somewhere?” came Allura’s voice, words rolling out of her tongue in that particular cadence of hers, clean and overly collected.

Somewhere amidst that persistent white noise buzzing in Lance’s ears, he managed to pick up Pidge’s mumbling, slightly muffled under the cackle of boots colliding against metal.

“He’s not with Hunk, I just checked. He’s also not in his room. It was empty when I stopped by early this morning.” they said, a slight edge to the words as they flew past their mouth. “I tried calling Shiro, but —”

Pidge had come to an abrupt stop, eyes doubling in size as they took in the sight before them, lips hanging open as words faded from their tongue, as if made of smoke. Allura’s voice hung in the air behind them. She collided head-first against Pidge’s back, a loud grunt escaping her throat as a gust of air was pushed out of her lungs with a quiet oofing sound. Her eyes pierced holes in the back of Pidge’s neck.

“What is it, Pidge?” she asked, frowning down at the green paladin.

Allura followed their line of sight to the other side of the room, bright blue eyes widening a fraction. Because there, right in front of them, was _Lance_. The same Lance that had mysteriously disappeared from his room on the previous night, the one they had been looking for all morning. And if that in itself wasn’t surprising, then the fact that he’d been found in Keith’s room, comfortably nested amongst his sheets surely was.

Lance looked from Pidge to Allura, gulping loudly. He could almost hear the echo of his pounding heart, beating at a fast and unforgiving pace inside his chest, blood pumping towards his face, setting his cheeks on fire.

He still had his hand safely tucked between Keith’s, fingers tightly intertwined. So, ever so slowly, he began to pull away, burying his now free hand underneath one of his thighs and away from Allura’s piercing gaze.

In his periphery, Lance caught a glimpse of Keith’s face. His cheeks flashed a bright, angry shade of red, his eyes downcast, seemingly eager to count every single thread woven in the flimsy infirmary sheets.

“H — Hey, Pidge. A — Allura.” Lance mustered, rather pathetically. He forced a smile, hoping to dissipate some of the tension in the room. “What are you guys doing here?”

Allura raised a single, perfectly plucked eyebrow at him.

“We should be the ones asking you this, Lance.” she said, crossing her arms and staring expectantly at him. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Lance nervously licked his bottom lip, his mouth having grown awfully dry. He inhaled deeply, parting his mouth to speak, only to be met with dreadful silence.

“I — I was just…” he struggled with the words, having forgotten how to form coherent sentences. Allura raised another eyebrow, still waiting. Pidge, on the other hand, seemed to be losing a fight against a smile as it threatened to break through her lips, mischief shimmering bright and honey-like in those amber eyes. “I — I couldn’t sleep and since I was close by, I thought maybe I could check up on Keith, you know? See how he was doing and all that.”

“Isn’t your room located on the opposite side of the ship, though?” Pidge countered, smirking mischievously. Lance clenched his jaw, swallowing hard. “How exactly did you happen to be close by, Lance?”

“Pidge…” he groaned their name in warning, but it only served to kindle the amusement burning behind those round glasses.

“We’re waiting, Lance.” Pidge continued, unfazed, their voice deceptively sweet. “What were you doing wandering around the medical ward in the middle of the night?”

“I — I wasn’t doing anything! I was just —”

Lance nearly bit his own tongue at the feel of long, calloused fingers wrapping around his wrist, bringing him to a silent stillness. His whole body shivered at the simple touch, shards of ice piercing through delicate skin, freezing the blood in his veins. There was no heat from his mouth as he exhaled a shuddering breath, eyes trailing an invisible path back towards Keith. It always led back to him.

His jaw was carved out of the cleanest marble, edges dangerously sharp, slashing through Lance with ease, as if he was nothing more than a thin sheet of paper. His eyes, as dark as the void outside those windows, seemed to swallow all the light in the room. Lance could feel himself losing his balance, feet no longer touching the ground, caught once again in that strange magnetic field that seemed to emanate from Keith’s body, stronger than gravity, stronger than reason.

“I was the one who asked Lance to stay.” Keith said in a clipped tone, projecting the kind of controlled poise Lance had only ever seen in Shiro. He found himself unable to look away, equal parts fascinated and terrified. “I asked him to stay the night, okay? I was having a bad dream and I thought I would sleep better if there was someone else here with me. That’s all there was to it. So, _drop it_ , Pidge.”

Pidge opened their mouth, only to close it a moment later, eyes drifting from Lance to Keith with shining curiosity.

Lance felt warm all over, liquid heat pooling at the base of his stomach, melting away the ice from his veins. Winter dissolved into spring, flowers blossoming in the spaces between his lungs and heart, budding, budding, until there was nothing but the sweet, earthly scent of a garden in full bloom. Lance looked at Keith and his eyes burned, as if he’d been staring directly at the sun. He was reminded then of all the times Keith had defended him, watching his back during missions, protecting him with the sharp end of his sword or with the cutting edge of his words.

But the cold creeped back inside as Keith’s hold eased from his wrist, leaving behind a trail of phantom scorch marks, the shape of his fingers emblazoned against his skin. Nothing but a distant memory of his touch.

Keith wasn’t looking at him, eyes staring straight ahead, meeting the cerulean blue of Allura’s laser-sharp gaze. Lance frowned, watching as her eyes slowly lifted from the spot Keith’s fingers had been only moments ago, wrapped tightly around his wrist.

“Where are your cuffs, Keith?” she asked, narrowing her eyes back at him.

“I took them off.” Lance erupted in a burst of sound. Allura turned her eyes at him. “I couldn’t just leave Keith in chains, like some kind of criminal. It wasn’t right.”

“There’s a reason for Keith to be restrained, Lance. You know that. Keith knows that.” Allura retorted, harder than before. Lance didn’t flinch at her tone, gripping the edge of the mattress with enough force to feel the ache in his knuckles. “He’s not in control, remember? It’s not safe, Lance. He could have —”

“Well, I’m still here, aren’t I?” Lance practically spat out the words. “You said he was still in there, Allura. You told me not to give up on him, so I didn’t.”

Allura let out a long, tired sight, briefly closing her eyes.

“I know what I said, Lance. But you have to understand the danger you were in.”

“Nothing happened!” he cried out, unable to keep the bite away from his voice. Allura pursed her lips together, staring back at him. “We spent the night together, alone in this room, and nothing happened.”

Lance tried to mask the blatant disappointment lacing his voice. He tried, tried, and ultimately failed. He wished something _had_ happened. He could almost taste it in his tongue, the desire for something other, something more. How his lips ached with the hazy memories of a near-kiss. How warm was Keith’s breath as it pushed past his teeth, grazing his tongue. A whisper. A promise. How his fingertips still tingled with that ghostly touch, skin to skin, scars to callouses. It wasn’t the violence Lance so desperately craved. It was something infinitely sweeter. A press of lips. A hitch of breath.

But nothing happened.

It was Keith who broke the silence, still not looking at him as the words poured from his lips, bitterly.

“Allura is right. Something could have happened.” he murmured, fists closed around the sheets pooling around his hips, knuckles turning white. “I shouldn’t have let you do that, Lance. But I was stupid and reckless and I — I let myself go.”

“Keith, what are you —”

“Put them back on, Allura.” Keith lifted both of his arms, extending his wrists and exposing the bracelet of bruises circling the skin there. Lance widened his eyes in horror. “Chain me to the bed again.”

“ _What_? No, no! No.” Lance fervently shook his head, surging his body from bed and into Keith’s personal space, hands coming to rest around his wrists, eyes frantically searching a cloudless twilight. “Keith, you can’t be serious! There’s no need for these stupid cuffs. You’re _you_ again. You’re _here_ , the real you. I can feel it.”

“But I won’t be here for much longer, Lance.” Keith’s voice was soft, but his words cut as sharp as a luxite blade. “I can feel this thing inside me growing stronger. It won’t be long until I’m not in control anymore.”

“But Keith —”

“No, Lance, listen.” Keith unraveled his wrists from Lance’s clammy hands, the pad of his thumb skimming along the slope of Lance’s cheekbones, tracing the freckles splattered below his eyes. “I want to be me again. I don’t want to wake up and remember all the horrible things I did while I was awake. I — I can’t keep living with this creature inside my head, listening to my every thought, controlling my every move. I want to be free.”

A sigh left Keith’s lips, a small gust of air blowing warmth into Lance’s open mouth. He lost himself to the midnight sky of Keith’s eyes, stargazing into outer space.

“I want Allura to try again.” he said, calm and resolute. “I want her to try to take this creature from me, once and for all.”

“Are you sure?” Lance’s voice was but a whisper, barely audible over the rumble of his erratic heart. “You almost didn’t make it the first time she tried it. W — What if this time y — you…”

Keith leaned in, touching his forehead against Lance’s and bringing his rambling to a staggering halt. He drew in a sharp breath, eyes falling shut, lips parting open. On the other side of his closed eyelids, the world faded into oblivion. All he knew was the press of Keith’s body against his own, the roughness of his fingers, the steadiness of his breath, the intoxicating smell of the desert night air. It was overwhelming. All of it. All of Keith.

“Lance,” his voice was like a soft caress, brushing against the shell of Lance’s ear. Shivers cascaded down his spine, his arms, his legs. “Last night, you said you trusted me. I’m asking you to trust me now…”

Lance opened his eyes, finding himself at the mercy of those starry eyes, drifting through achingly familiar constellations.

“… Trust me to come back.”

Lance blinked away the tears gathering in his eyes, swallowing the water rushing down his throat as he drowned in a sea of fear. He nearly choked on his own tongue as he poured the words out, letting out a loud snort.

“When did you get so good with your words, Kogane?”

Keith chuckled, the melody over and gone too soon.

“I had a lot of time to think about what I wanted to tell you, Lance.”

“But… What about the risks?”

“We’re paladins of Voltron, Lance.” Keith said. “There will always be risks.”

A second passed in silence.

And then —

“Fine.” Lance exhaled, defeated. “Fine. I’ll tie you to the damn bed, but you better come back to us. Or, I swear to God, I’ll go get you in there myself.”

“Lance, I don’t think that’s even possible.”

“I don’t care. I’ll find a way, just… Promise me you’ll come back to us. Promise me, Keith.”

A shudder of breath. A flutter of lashes. A twitch of his hand as it touched, pressed, clawed. A furrow between his brows, whisked away by a feathery kiss, no more than a lingering press of chapped, brittle lips.

“I promise.”

* * *

 

Later, as the paladins all assembled in Keith’s room, Lance guided him back to bed, carefully pressing his back against the soft mattress, his head falling on the pillow, hair pooling around like spilt ink. With Allura’s help, he tied Keith’s wrists and ankles, securing him in place. His fingers shook as he worked the cuffs, ears buzzing with the distinct _click_ of a lock falling shut. Lance sent Keith an apologetic look and his heart swelled at the sight of a reassuring smile grazing the corners of his lips.

“Is there really no other way?” Shiro asked, hovering at the side of the bed with a concerned frown marring the chiseled planes of his face.

Next to him, Allura sighed. Long, slim fingers came to rest on the former paladin’s arm in a gesture that was meant to be comforting. But it seemed to do little to appease Shiro’s nerves.

“It will work this time, Shiro.” Allura said, voice imbued with a brazen certainty.

Shiro nodded, turning to face Keith, who laid impassive on bed, eyes inscrutable as he regarded the metal bracelets biding his wrists.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, pinned down under Keith’s piercing gaze.

“Yes.” Keith hissed through clenched teeth, drifting his eyes towards Allura. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

The princess gave him a firm nod of her head, moving so she could stand beside him, hands hovering over his chest with tentative care. Allura paused for one fleeting second, eyeing Keith with a fierce intent. He held her gaze with steady focus, unblinking as he looked deep into those blue orbs. An unspoken question hung in the air between them.

“Shiro, Hunk,” Allura called, eyes fixed on Keith. “Hold him down.”

They did as they were told, each of them grabbing one of Keith’s shoulders. Lance caught a glimpse of an apologetic smile ghosting across Hunk’s lips, ears picking up on the low “Sorry, buddy” that left his mouth. Lance grimaced at the sight of Shiro, the closest thing Keith had to a brother, pressing him hard against the mattress. He avoided any direct eye contact with Keith. His mouth was pulled taut, lips colorless under the brightness of the artificial lights.

“It’s okay, Shiro.” Lance heard Keith whisper, low and gentle and unlike anything Lance had ever heard coming out of his mouth. “I’m gonna be okay. Allura knows what she’s doing.”

“It’s gonna work, Shiro.” Lance pitched in, staring deep into those gray eyes. He said it again, more to himself than anyone else in that room. The alternative was simply terrifying. “It’s gonna work. He’s gonna be alright.”

 _I’m not losing him_ , chanted a voice at the back of his head. _I’m not losing him, I’m not losing him, I’m not losing him, I’m not_ —

“Go on, Allura.”

Lance heard Shiro saying, a resolute quality to his voice. His eyes were dark and filled with intent, hands digging into Keith’s shoulder and crumpling the flimsy material of his infirmary gown in his fist.

“Close your eyes.” Allura told Keith.

Lance watched that disconcerting pair of indigo eyes disappear behind pale eyelids, heat pooling inside his gut, fingertips itching to move, to touch. The pounding of his heart reached his ears in deafening waves of sound.

_I’m not losing him._

_I’m not losing him._

_I’m not losing him._

It began with a gentle press of Allura’s hands, settling over Keith’s beating heart. She had her eyes closed as well, brows furrowed deep in concentration, cheeks glowing a shimmering pink as her marks burned bright, bright, brighter.

The room fell eerily silent. Nothing but the nauseating rasps of Keith’s shallow breathing, the soft humming escaping past Allura’s lips.           Lance searched for Pidge, a statuesque figure in a distant corner of the room, eyes open wide, following each movement with a scientific precision. But his eyes flew back towards Keith the moment a whimper echoed against those pristine white walls. And he watched, with growing horror, as Keith choked against his own breath, chest becoming awfully still under Allura’s hands.

“Allura?” Lance murmured, feeling terribly small.

 “I’m almost there.” she said. “I can sense the rift creature. It’s… Closer.”

Allura’s frown deepened and a grunt rattled her throat.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Lance asked. But when all he got was another grunt as answer, he pressed harder, louder. “Allura? What is it?”

“It’s fighting back.” she grumbled, tone clipped, jaw clenched tight. “It’s too strong. I — I don’t —”

“If anyone can do this, it’s you, Allura. You’re princess of Altea, you’re the most talented altean alchemist in thousands of years, you saved dozens of alteans from the same fate. I saw what you’re capable of, all the amazing things you can do.” Lance swallowed hard, nervously biting his lip. “I’m asking you, _please_ , bring him back. Please, Allura. Bring him back.”

A string of disjointed words spiraled out of Keith’s mouth, followed suit by a flurry of disgruntled noises, pouring unbidden in his feverish state. Blood trickled down his nose, glistening under the glow of the lights. Lance felt a shiver run down his spine.

_I’m losing him, I’m losing him, I’m losing him._

Lance held on to Keith’s hand, flinching slightly from the cold. He leaned in, climbing over the invisible walls he had built between them long ago. He placed a soft touch on Keith’s cheek, lips warm against his forehead. His heart fled from the confines of his chest, running wild and free.

“You promised me. You said you’d come back, Keith. Don’t you remember? You promised, Keith.”

There was something nearly animalistic about the way his voice tore through his mouth, ripping his throat to shreds. He felt wounded, skin raw with fresh bruises, blood oozing from old scars.

“Can you hear me? I know you’re in there. You made a promise, you can’t just — You’re stronger than this, Keith. You have to come back to us. Come back to _me._ Please, I can’t lose you. Please, come back.”

Lance had always hated the waiting and all the quiet that came along with it. It was the inevitability of it all, the sense of being utterly powerless against the obscure forces threatening to claim the boy in his arms.

The boy he loved.

_No._

His mind rebelled against the thought, throat prickling with the urge to scream.

_You can’t have him._

A voice roared in his head, strangely reminiscent of his own. Only louder, wilder. More animal than human. Something warm swirled underneath, driven solely on instinct. Lance could hear Red growling in the distance. She sounded angry, furious.

Lance opened his eyes to a strange purple glow. Floating above Keith’s chest and nested between Allura’s hands was a reddish-blue entity. Formless, lifeless. The rift creature didn’t seem like much from up close, but Lance knew — perhaps better than anyone else in that room — all the horrors it was capable of once it found a suitable host, like a parasite.

And then he heard it.

Silence shattered like glass, broken by Keith’s ragged breaths as he sucked the air to his lungs with brutal force. He wailed in pain, a guttural sound that seemed to cut through every muscle and bone, bleeding him dry. A second passed before Allura would join him, a scream erupting from the back of her throat.

The room was swallowed by a searing white light and, for a moment, Lance thought Kosmo had teleported them somewhere else, across space and time, through countless dimensions. But he could still feel the ground beneath his feet, solid and unmoving. Next to his leg, Kosmo growled.

“It’s done.” Allura said, slightly out of breath.

Lance stared at her empty hands, with no trace of the entity that floated there only moments before. The rift creature was gone, gone, gone. Keith was —

A low groan reached Lance’s ears, so weak it could almost be mistaken for a whimper.

“Keith?”

His eyes fluttered open. Stars flickered behind long lashes, sparkling across an indigo ocean, dark waves breaking at the shore.

“L — Lance?”

A smile tugged at his lips.

“Hey, samurai.” Lance’s voice was laced with tenderness, impossible to hide. He didn’t care. Nothing else mattered. There was only Keith. “How are you feeling?”

Keith scrunched up his nose, face contorting into a grimace. He looked absolutely adorable, despite the blood coating on top of his upper lip. Lance’s smile only grew wider, until it brushed the corner of his eyes, turning into a full-bloomed grin.

“Like I’ve been stomped by a giant mechanical cat.” he grumbled, swallowing thickly. “D — Did it work?”

Lance gave him a nod, eyes slightly puffy, brimming with unshed tears. At his other side, Shiro had a bright smile on his face, resting a hand on top of Keith’s head in a gesture that was filled with brotherly affection.

“Yes.” he said. “You and Allura both did it.”

Keith parted his lips, but whatever he was meaning to say was swallowed under loud sniffing noises. Lance didn’t have to look up to know it belonged to Hunk. His hand formed a fist to cover his mouth in an attempt to smother his choked-up sobs. Pidge was at his side in a tick, patting him warmly on the back.

“Let it all out, buddy. That’s it.”

“Hunk, why are you crying?” Allura asked, concern marring her voice.

“Those are happy tears, I swear.” he said between sobs, cheeks stained from the constant roll of tears. “I’m just so happy to see you, Keith. You know, the _real_ you. Not the evil, corrupted version of you.”

Keith drew in a shaky breath, exhaling in a soft chuckle. Lance wished he could commit the sound to memory, to be able to hear it every time he closed his eyes.

“I’m glad to see you too, Hunk. It feels good to be myself again.” Keith sighed in relief, lifting his eyes to meet Allura’s. “Thanks, Allura.”

She smiled back at him, shoulders sagging from exhaustion.

“You have nothing to thank me for, Keith. I consider you family, all of you. I did what any of us would have done in my place.” she said, eyes landing on Lance for a brief second. “Some even more so than others, I believe.”

Lance felt his cheeks heat up, no doubt painted a deep, cherry red. But thankfully Keith was too busy glaring at Allura to notice.

At his feet, Kosmo started to grow restless, tiny whimpering noises leaving his throat, golden eyes frantically searching for Keith. And, with a flare of light, he climbed on top of the bed, heavy paws stomping over the mattress, tail wagging behind. There was a collective gasp and sunshine burst through Keith’s lips. A laugh. Deep, rich and filled with so much warmth Lance thought his heart might catch fire just at the sound of it.

“Hey, boy. Hey, I missed you too.” Keith said between bursts of laughter as Kosmo licked the side of his face, leaving wet trails of saliva down the slope of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“Kosmo! Get down!” Lance hollered, fighting a smile of his own. The wolf tilted his head to the side, considering him. “Remember what we talked about? About being on our best behavior? I swear to God I have no idea who you learn this stuff from.”

Pidge snickered, smiling at him.

“I don’t know, Lance. Maybe he picked a habit after sleeping all these nights on top of _your_ bed.”

Lance noticed the way Keith’s eyebrows shot up at the words, indigo eyes flickering back towards him, lips pulled into a lopsided smirk.

“Oh, is that so?”

“I was just… He was the one who started following me everywhere, okay?” Lance retorted, crossing his arms defensively. Next to him, his friends struggled with the sudden urge to laugh. They all failed miserably. “How could I say no? I mean, look at him!”

“That’s okay, Lance.” Keith said, a hint of amusement dripping from his tone. “I forgive you for being a terrible influence on my wolf and for teaching him such bad manners.”

Lance opened his mouth for a rebuttal that never came, words lost somewhere down his throat the moment his eyes met Keith’s, dark orbs alight with laughter.

Shiro and Hunk relieved Keith of the cuffs then, while Lance cleaned the blood coating on his lips and nose.

“Here.” he had murmured, shortly before pressing a wet cloth against Keith’s skin.

Lance followed the pink trail dusting his cheeks, how warm his skin felt all of a sudden, as if Keith was running a fever. But neither of them said anything, expertly avoiding each other’s eyes until eventually Lance pulled away, the moment quickly forgotten.

Lance wasn’t sure how long they stayed in Keith’s room, huddled close together on top of his sheets, sharing a bed between the six of them and a giant space wolf. The last time all of them were together like this had been after their first battle with the robeast, back on Earth. They used to hang out in Allura’s room during the brief time they spent in the Garrison’s medical ward, laughing at each other and watching the mice as they performed an intricate number, having built a miniature circus on top of the infirmary bed.

It was very much the same now, except for the mice, who had stayed behind in Allura’s room. Pidge was sprawled all over Hunk as he told them about the day he took Shay to have dinner with his parents. Allura listened carefully, head comfortably nested on Shiro’s shoulder while he ran his fingers down the thick locks of her hair. Lance had heard that story before when Hunk called him in the middle of the night, right after he took Shay back to her quarters at the Garrison. He sounded just as excited now as he did back then, if only slightly less nervous. Lance remembered how happy he’d felt at the call. How happy he felt now, crowded in a bed with his chosen family.

Lance glanced at Keith, sitting at his side, their bodies closely pressed together, their shoulders rubbing against one another every time one of them moved. He had an easy smile on his lips, fingers idly running through Kosmo’s coat of fur, who seemed to have fallen asleep across his legs, muzzle buried against his stomach.

 _This is where I belong_ , Lance remembered thinking. _This feels like home._

Eventually, they all left, claiming Keith needed to rest. But Lance couldn’t help but notice Allura’s half-lidded eyes, and he thought perhaps taking the rift creature from Keith had taken a toll on her, worse than what they’d initially thought. Allura had stifled another yawn — the fourth in the last fifteen minutes — when Shiro ordered them to leave. Keith needed to rest, according to him. And apparently so did Allura, who barely managed to keep her eyes open at this point.

“I’ll come check on you later, okay?” Shiro said as he stood from the bed, leaving a mess of crumpled sheets behind.

Keith frowned.

“You’re not staying?” he asked, confused.

“Sorry, kiddo. They need me at the control room. I’m still Captain, after all.” Shiro said, sending Lance a knowing smile. “But Lance will he here in case you need anything. Right, Lance?”

Lance shifted slightly, turning his face away so Keith wouldn’t see how his cheeks burned.

“R — Right.”

The doors whooshed closed behind Shiro and then there was just the two of them. Lance and Keith, neck and neck, shoulder to shoulder. An awkward tension filled the room, air heavy with silence. Being alone with Keith was something Lance had never really gotten used to. Last night had been different. Lance had stayed because Keith had asked him to. How could he deny him? He remembered Keith’s voice trembling with fear, calling out his name in the dark. He remembered how his body was assaulted with terrible tremors, his hands grasping the sheets in tightly closed fists.

But Lance was unsure what he was supposed to do now. He still didn’t know who he was to Keith, his mind haunted with doubt.

“So,” Keith croaked out, startling Lance from his panicked thoughts. “You let Kosmo sleep in your bed with you?”

“Yeah.” Lance smiled down at the sleeping animal, giving him a small rub between his ears. “I think he likes me. He wouldn’t leave my side after what happened. I don’t know why.”

Keith hummed in response, but otherwise remained silent. Lance cleared his throat, drenched in sawdust.

“Does that bother you?” he asked.

Keith snapped his head at him, eyes opening wide and hand going still on Kosmo’s fur.

“W — What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know.” Lance said with a shrug. “You didn’t say anything, I thought that maybe you got annoyed at me for some reason. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

Keith sighed, shaking his head to himself.

“Lance, that doesn’t bother me.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No. Not at all.” Keith said and Lance felt a knot slowly unravel at the base of his stomach. “I, um, I think it’s actually really cool that you guys are getting along.”

Lance smiled, wide and bright and full of teeth.

“You do?” he asked in a warbling voice, brimming with hope.

“Y — Yeah.”

Keith grew silent, a dark cloud descending over the sharp edges of his shoulders. His eyes had become guarded. Lance’s smile crumbled as he took in the abrupt change, brows knotting together.

“What is it?” Keith bit his bottom lip, averting his gaze. Lance grew anxious. “Just say it, Keith.”

Keith’s eyes flickered towards him, lips parting open to release a soft breath.

“I just… I wanted to thank you for taking care of Kosmo while I was, um, away.” Keith winced at his own choice of words, his jaw clamping shut. “And, um, thanks for staying with me last night. But you don’t have to, uh, babysit me all the time. I mean, you can go if you want to. I’ll be fine.”

“Keith,” he lifted his eyes at the sharp edge of Lance’s voice, meeting his gaze. “Do you want me to leave?”

The silence stretched between them and Lance could feel the room growing cold, Keith’s eyes like shards of ice breaking through skin, digging deep into flesh. Something dark and ugly bloomed in the space between heartbeats, their bodies growing distant.

“I don’t wanna cause you any trouble with Allura.” Keith shrugged, still not looking at him.

Lance frowned, confused.

“What does Allura have to do with any of this?”

“I saw the way she looked at us early this morning. I think maybe she got the wrong idea about what was going on and I know how important she is to you, so…”

Keith sounded small, a shadow of his former self. Lance traced Keith’s face with his eyes, a furrow settling between his brows as he glimpsed Keith biting his lip, helplessly; his shoulders sagged in surrender, his hands clenching and unclenching against the sheets. Lance felt an ache between his ribs, travelling through his bones and thrumming all the way down his spine. He stretched out his hand, hesitant. Carefully, he placed a hand on the side of Keith’s face, thumb tracing his razor-edged jawline.

“Keith, look at me.” he said, quietly. A heartbeat passed in silence before Keith met his eyes, leaning further into Lance’s touch. “Allura and I, we’re not… We’re not together anymore. Things changed while you were gone. We thought it was best if we stayed as friends.”

A tiny gasp left Keith’s lips.

“You… Broke up with Allura?”

Lance nodded and Keith’s eyes softened at the simple gesture, his breathing measured as Lance’s thumb drew small circles against his skin, tugging a lock of dark hair behind his ear.

“Why?” Keith asked, nearly a whisper.

 _Because she was not you,_ his heart sang.

“Keith, I —” Lance whispered back, swallowing with some difficulty. Keith watched him with clear intent, eyes bright with the glow of a thousand stars. This time, there was nothing to hold him back. “I missed you.”

Keith froze in place, mouth hanging open in stunned silence. Lance’s hand brushed against the side of his neck, feeling the rapid pulse of his heart as it danced a staccato tune beneath his fingertips.

“You missed me?”

Lance met Keith’s eyes behind dark lashes, burning with a ferocity Lance had yet to see anywhere else, tearing holes in his chest and stealing the air from his lungs. _I love you,_ Lance wanted to say but he didn’t know how, words stuck in the back of his throat. A book with a torn-out page, ink washed away by the waves, running out pitch black into the water.

“I… Yeah. I missed you a lot. All the time.” Lance confessed, heart missing a beat. Keith’s cheeks turned a deep red, eyes wide in shock. “I thought I’d lose you and that it’d be too late by the time we finally found you. I — I thought you’d be gone forever.”

Keith slowly reached out to Lance, fingers shaking as they brushed against his hand, gently, carefully, afraid he might shatter at the smallest touch. Keith slid a fraction to the side, pulling at Lance’s fingers and squeezing their bodies closer together on the bed, pressing farther into him.

“Come here.” he murmured, cradling Lance’s hand against his chest. Lance closed his eyes as he pressed his head to the crook of Keith’s neck, drifting away at the echo of his heartbeat. “Can you feel that? I’m not gone. You found me, Lance. I’m here with you and I don’t — I don’t want you to leave, okay? So, just… Stay.”

Lance let out a contented sigh.

“I’m not going anywhere, Keith.” he said, nuzzling against Keith’s neck. At the faint tremors running through his body, Lance’s lips tilted slightly upwards. “Nothing could ever take me away from this place, right here.”

_Nothing could take me away from you._

They fell silent, listening to each other breathing. Lance looked at the rise and fall of Keith’s chest, at the loose strands of black hair that fell unruly down the nape of his neck, brushing his shoulders. He counted every beat of his heart, every flutter of his lashes as Keith closed his eyes.

“Tell me what else changed while I was away.” he asked, voice half a whisper.

Lance was vaguely aware of the press of his lips against Keith’s clavicle, a hand coming to stroke his midnight hair away from his face. He took in a deep breath, tightening his embrace around Keith, and then he began to tell him everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so, the reason for this chapter's late update can be resumed into one word: university. I'm graduating at the end of the year, which means I'm working on my grad thesis/project and I dedicated all of the free time I had in the past month to get it done, so I barely had any time left to write :/  
> But the good news is: I'm officially on vacation! So updates shouldn't take this long anymore! Yay!  
> Also, a gentle reminder that this story is almost reaching its end... Two (or maybe three) more chapters left.  
> Hang in there paladins! The fluff is coming I promise!


	12. part xii - under the same sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Lance.”  
> That was all that came out of Keith’s mouth before he extinguished the lingering distance between their bodies, surging forward with a new-found determination. He pressed their foreheads together, running calloused fingers on the nape of Lance’s neck, carding through short, brown curls. They were close enough for Lance to be able to count every fluttering eyelash, every crack in those parched lips.  
> “I really like you too.” Keith murmured.  
> The air escaped Lance’s lungs, heart coming to a dangerous halt. His voice was no more than a whisper as it left his lips.  
> “Can I… Can I kiss you?”  
> And, then, just as quiet —

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a long one (that's why it took me sooo long to get it done), so please take your time reading it.  
> the title of this chapter comes from ben howard's song 'under the same sun'.

**part xii**

**under the same sun**

* * *

 

_And I hope like a child_  
Widow of the sea  
I hold these arms around you  
All's around me

* * *

 

“There.”

The nurse stepped aside, taking a last glimpse at her work before cleaning the mess on top of the infirmary bed and throwing the dirty, bloodied gauze into the garbage bin. Lance looked down at his freshly bandaged wounds, tentatively moving his arm and trying to get used to the stretch of skin underneath, stitches pulled taut with the smallest movement.

Without Altean technology and healing pods it would most likely scar. He had been lucky. At least, that’s what the nurse had told him. Apparently, the blade had nipped at his tendon, an inch closer to the left and he might never be able to hold his bayard again. Not that he would ever need to. The war had ended. They had won. The universe would know peace once again. Life as a paladin would become a thing of the past.

A wave of relief flooded his insides, drenching his bones in warmth. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could feel Red’s presence, purring softly into his ears.

“Thanks.” Lance said, forcing a smile that barely managed to reach his eyes.

The nurse smiled back at him, shaking her head while relieving herself from a pair of gloves.

“Just make sure to keep the cuts clean and change the bandages daily.” she said, to which Lance nodded rather enthusiastically. A short chuckle escaped her lips. “Well, I have no idea why you’re so eager to leave, but I won’t keep you here anymore. You’re free to go.”

Lance promptly jumped from the bed, swinging his long legs over the mattress and ignoring the sting it sparked on his thigh as his feet met the floor, where another deep gash had been tightly wrapped under thick layers of gauze. He mumbled a quick goodbye, practically running to the doors, anxious to leave that room.

“Take care, McClain.”

Lance turned around, flashing her a wink. And then he was storming through the set of doors and into an empty hallway, running back to the place he was never supposed to leave. Between strong arms, caught in a warm embrace. Stargazing into an endless twilight, lost to the glow shimmering inside those eyes. Lance ran, ran, ran. Feet moving fast, fast, faster. Slowly, the medicine kicked in, liquifying the fire licking the sore muscles on his thigh and arm. The pain was reduced to a dull throb, no more than a distant memory.

He had to dodge a few people along the way, calling out a string of excuses as he flew past their scandalized faces, their eyes wide as they stared holes behind his back.

But Lance didn’t care.

He had somewhere to be. He had someone to go back to. _Home_ , Lance thought as he stepped aside to avoid collision against another officer. _I’m going home._

“Sorry!” he yelled back, turning around another corner, heart sprouting wings and flying off of his chest through his open mouth and into outer space.

When he finally spotted those familiar doors, a smile blossomed between his lips, alight with laughter. Through the glass, he caught sight of Keith inside, hair a disheveled mess on top of his head, inky black against his pale complexion. Lance released a sigh, feeling breathless and slightly light-headed. Keith was a vision, beauty personified. Even dressed in that ugly infirmary gown that did nothing to accommodate the solid planes of his chest or the sharp lines of his biceps. Even with dark circles underneath his eyes, purple crescent moons to match the stars in his indigo eyes.

_Beautiful_ , Lance heard his heart sing in his ribcage. The sound rattling his bones, echoing through his bloodstream.

Keith was beautiful.

And maybe today would be the day Lance would tell him that.

That and more, so much more.

This could be the day he would finally tell Keith the truth about his feelings, a confession poured with every aching beat of his heart. In the quiet of this pristine room, safe behind those four walls, bodies pressed close together under white sheets. Here, in outer space, as they crossed countless galaxies back to Earth, having the stars as witnesses. Here, where it all began. Their journey as paladins of Voltron. Their lives as defenders of the universe.

Here, where their friendship had bloomed despite a cold rivalry, where they had watched each other’s backs, where Lance had gotten his heart broken and then pieced back together the moment Keith set foot in the Castle of Lions once again, older and wiser and nothing like the hot-headed boy he’d met in that cold desert night. _Two years_ , Lance remembered thinking. Keith had spent two years away from the team, away from his family.

And, although, it had been but a couple of months for Lance, it’d felt like longer. The pain had been nearly physical in those first few days, filled with endless hours spent at the training deck or at the Lions’ hangar, where he would wallow next to Red and wait for a response that would never come. He had never felt more alone, more lost. It was as if he had forgotten his place in the world, treading a fine line on wobbly legs.

Two years…

A lot could change in two years, but there was still _something_ about Keith. Something other, something more. Something that belonged to him and to no one else.

Their eyes met and it was almost as if time had frozen over, as if not a day had gone by with them light-years away from each other, with nothing but the dim glow of faraway stars to lead their way back home. There they were. Together. Lance and Keith. Space ranger partners. Co-leaders of Voltron. Rivals turned friends.

Lance took in a shuddering breath, blood thrumming loud in his ears, pounding against his skull. He counted his heartbeats, trying to calm himself before going in. He could do this, Lance told himself in a silent mantra. He could do this.

With a trembling sigh, he walked through the doors.

Kosmo’s ears perked up at the sound of the automatic doors whooshing open from where he laid on top of the bed, comfortably nested between Keith’s legs. Lance watched as he wagged his bushy tail, eyes twinkling gold with excitement.

Keith snapped his head to the side, eyes widening a fraction as they landed on Lance, lips curling into a lopsided smile. Lance felt his knees growing weak, the air forcefully pushed out of his lungs as the ground shifted beneath his feet.

“Hey, Lance.”

_I love you_ , whispered a voice in his head, words aching for release.

Lance opened his mouth, only to close it a moment later. He swallowed thickly, an uncomfortable itch at the back of his throat. It burned, burned, burned.

_I love you._

With a deep breath, he gave it another try.

“I — I…” he stuttered, heaving a sigh in frustration, a groan trapped between his lips. “H — Hey.”

He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t —

“Lance? Is everything okay?”

A concerned furrow grew between Keith’s thick eyebrows.

Why couldn’t he say it?

“I — I’m fine. Everything is fine.” Lance said with another sigh, deeper, heavier. He ran a hand through his hair and tugged at the short strands with perhaps too much force.

Why couldn’t he say it? Why couldn’t he be brave for once? _Why_?

He flinched at his own blatant lie, catching a fleeting glimpse of the shadows as they danced in Keith’s eyes, dark and unsure. _He knows_ , Lance thought. _He knows I’m not telling the truth._

Lance chewed on his bottom lip, waiting for Keith to press the matter further, like he always did. But there was only silence and the quiet echo of their shared breathing. When he looked up, Keith was no longer staring at him; face downcast, partially hidden behind a curtain of hair as he followed the trail his fingers left on Kosmo’s fur.

Lance felt his chest grow smaller, smaller, his heart smothered between his lungs, constricted under oppressive layers of bone and muscle and skin.

Too heavy, too tight, too much.

He took a step closer, parting his lips with a sharp intake of breath before being effectively cut by Keith’s razor-sharp voice.

“How was it?” he asked, lifting his eyes back towards Lance.

He lost himself to the endless blue of the night sky, drifting through starlight.

“W — What?”

“What did the doctor say, Lance?” Keith clarified, slowly so Lance would understand this time.

He followed the invisible path Keith’s eyes made towards his arm and neck, where stark white bandages covered his most recent injuries. Lance blinked, lips parting to form a perfectly shaped “O” as realization slowly sank in, cheeks flushing a bright red.

“Oh, right, _that_.” he mumbled rather pathetically, chiding himself mentally. Keith raised an eyebrow, still waiting. “It was okay, I guess. Everything is good. I just need to keep it clean and return in a few days to take off the stitches.”

Keith gave him a slow nod of his head, brows furrowed as he took in the words and their meaning. Lance noticed from the corner of his eye how Keith seemed to fumble with the sheets, fingers growing restless, frantically clenching and unclenching a fistful of white fabric. In two easy strides, Lance reached the edge of the bed, looming over Keith like a dark cloud, casting shadows across his face under the dull glow of the artificial lights.

Keith looked up at him, eyes searching, diving into a bottomless blue. Lance wasn’t entirely sure about what he might find swimming in those depths. Pain. Love. Regret. There was so much buried under the sand. So many things left unsaid, carried by the endless ebb and flow of the waves.

“Scoot over.” Lance said, eager to change the direction of his introspective thoughts. He watched as an adorable frown appeared between Keith’s brows. “Move, Kogane. Make some room for me or else I’m gonna have to sit on you.”

Keith’s frown deepened and Lance noticed the slight twitch on the corner of his lips.

“You wouldn’t.” he said.

Lance smiled.

“Oh, is that a challenge? Because, just so you know, I totally would.”

“ _Lance_.”

Keith muttered his name in warning, an unspoken threat weighting heavy on his tongue as he pursed his lips together. Lance’s smile widened and before Keith could bite any other menacing retorts back at him, he climbed on top of the mattress, purposefully landing on Keith’s lap, arms and legs sprawled out like a large feline under a warm ray of sunlight. Next to him, Kosmo barked, tongue hanging from his open mouth in what Lance could only perceive as the equivalent of a smile.

“Oh, my God, Lance! Get off of me!” Keith hollered, struggling to wiggle himself free from Lance’s ridiculously long limbs, but to no avail. “What it wrong with you? C’mon, Lance, get off!”

Keith’s protests only served to tighten Lance’s hold around his torso, straddling Keith’s lap with his legs and caging him to the mattress. Their chests were pressed flush against one another, breathing heavily through their mouths. The room was filled with the sound of their disgruntled groans and the occasional burst of laughter that escaped past Lance’s unattended lips, bubbling from the depths of his chest.

“You chose this the moment you challenged me, Kogane.” Lance said between giggles, a loud _“oof”_ leaving his mouth the moment Keith’s elbow met two of his ribs. “I told you I would do it. This is what you get when you don’t listen to me.”

Keith let out a loud growl, more animal than human, and the response from Lance’s body was immediate, almost instinctual. He felt a shiver run down his spine, the hairs on his arms and neck standing all on end.

“Fine, Lance! I learned my lesson, now get off!” he spat out the words, an irritated snarl leaving the back of his throat, the sound almost galra-like.

Lance curled his fingers around Keith’s wrists, trapping him underneath the crushing weight of those stormy blue eyes, waves breaking against the shore as he leaned, down, down, down. Keith opened his mouth with a sharp intake of breath, eyes tracking every freckle spattered across Lance’s cheekbones, sliding down the slope of his nose and falling head-first on the plump surface of his lips.

They were close, Lance realized as heat flooded his cheeks, burning a bright red. Close enough to drown in the warm breath that left Keith’s parted lips and crashed against his mouth, grazing the wet tip of his tongue, sliding down his throat and creeping into his lungs like smoke. Close enough for Lance to be able to count every silvery speck of light swirling in the dark ocean of Keith’s eyes, every eyelash as it fluttered against his cheeks.

And, suddenly, the atmosphere changed.

An electrical current coursed down his spine, his arms, all the way towards his fingertips, tightly wrapped around Keith’s fluttering pulse. Somewhere behind them Kosmo barked again, the sound muffled under the frantic pounding of Lance’s heart, ears ringing with the loud pumping of his blood. Underneath him, Keith watched with intent eyes. Eyes that devoured, dark and unknowable, shining a bright, violet-colored twilight. Lance felt like he was falling at high-speed, forcefully pulled by the magnetic field that surrounded Keith, forever trapped inside those fathomless orbs.

Warmth pooled at the base of Lance’s stomach, flushing hot and bright across his torso. Flames licked the inside of his veins, fueling a thousand tiny explosions inside his ribcage. His lips were tugged into a crooked smile. Keith’s eyes followed the movement with fierce intent, unblinking. The tip of his tongue was a soft pink as it licked his chapped lips, sharp canines buried deep into flesh.

“I won.” Lance said as he leaned another inch forward, a bright grin dancing on his lips.

His eyes caught the moment Keith’s throat bobbed up and down as he tried to swallow, voice coming out raspy, dangerously low in the deafening silence of the room.

“This is not a competition, Lance.”

Lance shuddered at how easily his name rolled from Keith’s tongue, ghost fingers running up and down his spine at the sound of Keith’s voice breaking at the last syllable, a hitch of breath caught in the back of his throat.

“Everything is a competition between us.” Lance said. “And, this time, _I_ won. I actually beat Keith Kogane, paladin of the Black Lion, Blade of Marmora spy and fastest pilot in all of the universe.”

Keith lifted a single eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed. But standing at such close proximity Lance was able to catch the slight twitch at the corner of his lips as he bit back a smile, and it felt as though there was a bird flapping its wings inside his chest, longing for release from that cage of bones. Lance could feel talons digging deep into flesh, the thought of making Keith smile bleeding a searing hot magma into his veins.

“If this was a competition you wouldn’t be standing on top of me.” Keith retorted, slow and deliberate. Lance lifted his eyebrows in question. “I think we both know who has the superior fighting skills in this room.”

Lance shook his head, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Kogane. It doesn’t suit you.” he said once the chuckles subsided. “So, tell me, what is my prize?”

“What prize?”

“My prize for winning.” Lance beamed, earning an exasperated eyeroll from Keith. “C’mon, Keith. What do I get from beating the elusive and expertly skilled black paladin?”

Keith released a long, tired sigh.

“Lance, I’m gonna give you five seconds to get off of me.” he said in a firm voice, impassive. “There. That’s your prize.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll make you.”

Lance scoffed, dismissing Keith’s threatening tone with a flick of his brow, tilting his chin in clear defiance.

“I know for a fact that you’re not strong enough to fight me now, still recovering and all that.” Lance mused, nonchalant. “So, by all means, give it a try, mullet.”

Keith narrowed his eyes at Lance, but remained still under the weight of his body, stone-faced and tight-lipped.

“Five…” he started to count, voice rough as he stared deep into Lance’s eyes. “… Four…”

Still, Lance wouldn’t budge, comfortably settled across Keith’s lap. A smile shone large and bright on his lips, fingers digging into the delicate skin of Keith’s wrists, relishing at how his pulse fluctuated with every touch, every brush of fingertips, every fluttering breath.

“… Three…”

Lance could feel his confidence wavering as the seconds passed and Keith’s face remained as impassive as before, unreadable. He seemed calm, collected, a fading shadow of the fiery boy Lance once knew. But there was a small curl at the corner of his lips, tugging at the pink scar crawling the side of his face. A crooked smirk, dark and all-knowing, as if he was keeping a secret. His eyes shone with the kind of mischievous glow Lance was used to seeing behind Pidge’s thick lenses. He watched with a growing sense of unease as Keith parted his lips, the counting coming soon to an end and then —

“… Two…”

Lance swallowed thickly, mouth suddenly dry as a wolfish grin cut across Keith’s lips, fanged teeth exposed, a stark white under the artificial lights.

“K — Keith…” Lance croaked out, loosening his grip around Keith’s wrists, eyebrows knitting together in uncertainty.

“… One.”

Keith broke free from Lance’s grasp, turning them over in one swift movement, feet tangling amongst the sheets, fingers curling around Lance’s wrists in a vicious grip. He tilted his head to the side, considering. Lance stared back at him with wide eyes, unblinking. Under the weight of those dark, bottomless eyes Lance could see his own reflection gazing back at him, body suspended in time. He could hardly breathe, air caught between his throat and lungs.

Keith lowered his head, only inches away from Lance’s face. He basked in the warmth coming from Keith’s lips as he spoke in quiet tones, lips brushing against his earlobe.

“I guess I won.” he murmured, so soft, so quiet it hardly felt real. “Now, tell me. What is my prize, sharpshooter?”

Lance held his breath captive in his lungs, teeth buried in his bottom lip. A shudder coursed through his body at the memory of Keith’s skin pressed against his own, warm and surprisingly smooth. He thought he might be dreaming still, and at any moment he would open his eyes to the gray walls of his room back at the Garrison. Kosmo would be asleep at his feet and Keith would still be gone.

But reality, he soon realized, was much scarier.

Because there he was, caged between Keith’s powerful legs, captured under the weight of his body, staring into the never-ending night of his eyes, scenting the earth and the smoke and _him._ Just him. Just Keith.

He was awake, his eyes were wide open.

And Keith was there, hovering above him.

Too close to be real, too solid to be a dream.

Lance swallowed, hard.

“I — I thought this wasn’t a competition.” he stuttered, words scratching the back of his throat, raspy and hoarse. “How did you even do that?”

Keith’s lips split into a satisfied grin and something stirred inside Lance. Something hungry, dangerous. Something like _want_ , ravenous and all-consuming.

“C’mon, Lance, don’t be a sore loser.” Keith parroted the words he’d spoken only moments ago, smile still set in place. “While you were away the doctors came to see me and I’m now officially discharged from the med bay. So, um, surprise.”

“But you… You almost _died_! How is that even possible?”

“Apparently, I heal faster than the average human.” Keith said with a shrug.

Lance frowned, brows knitted together in confusion. And then it dawned on him, as he took in the alien color of Keith’s eyes, the sharp edge of his teeth.

“Right.” he grumbled, bottom lip puckered into a small pout. “You and your stupid galra genes.”

Keith quirked up a single eyebrow, smile fading from his lips.

“What’s the matter with my galra genes? I thought you were already over that.” he asked in a particularly defensive tone, one Lance hadn’t heard in a while. _There it is_ , he thought. The claws. “I thought you’d be happy to know that.”

His voice came as a whisper, barely audible despite the silence, lost to the loud thundering of Lance’s heart. And then, as Keith’s hands eased from his wrists, Lance felt his body stiffen, stomach coiling with a tinge of dread as fear was poured into his bloodstream, freezing his insides. Fear of having said the wrong thing, of forcing Keith back into the shell he so recently had learned how to crawl away from. Words had never come easy to him, Lance knew. It was a constant battle that most often than not resulted in Keith’s defeat.

And, in that moment, that’s exactly what he looked like.

Defeated.

With his eyes downcast, his hands clenched into angry fists at his sides. Knuckles turning white, paler than the moon. Sensing the change in the atmosphere, or perhaps just the change in Keith, Kosmo let out a low whimper and the sound went straight to Lance’s heart, cutting sharp through his chest.

“Keith, no, that’s not —”

Lance stopped himself midsentence, hand coming to rest on the side of Keith’s face. He forced their eyes to meet once again, thumb grazing the underside of his jaw with the kind of intimacy reserved only to long-time lovers. A tenderness Lance had only ever seen shared between his parents. A touch so careful, so gentle. When he spoke again his voice was no more than a wisp of sound, dissipating into thin air.

“I _am_ happy.” with the pad of his thumb, Lance brushed away the angry lines carved between Keith’s brows, fingers lingering against the slope of his cheeks, drenched in his warmth. “I mean it, Keith. I’m happy. You… You make me happy. I just… Still worry about you. _Díos_ , it feels weird to say that out loud, but I guess there’s no point trying to hide it anymore.”

Silence settled over them, shoulders crushed under the heavy weight of Lance’s words. Keith simply stared back at Lance, eyes guarded and expression wary. He was quiet, as usual. But there was a foreign restlessness lingering on his limbs. Fingers no longer clenched into a fist, fidgeting with the collar of Lance’s uniform instead.

“You were worried about me?” he asked after a moment of hesitation, thumb pressing against the bandages on Lance’s neck, no more than a featherlight touch.

Lance nodded, exhaling a short, breathy laugh.

“Yeah, of course I was. Why do you think I’ve spent the last couple of days here? It’s kinda obvious, isn’t it? I think maybe your mullet is starting to affect your brain, Kogane.” he said softly, basking in the flush of pink spreading across Keith’s pale cheeks, climbing all the way towards the tip of his ears. “You’re my space ranger partner, our team leader. You’re my best friend, Keith. It could get a bit lonely in the Castleship sometimes, y’know?”

“Hunk and Pidge were always busy doing engineer stuff together and even though I used to tag along I was never really good at that, not like them anyway. It just didn’t feel… _Right_. But you… You made me feel a little less alone.” Lance continued, peeking a look at Keith behind long lashes as he scrambled for words inside his head. “Even if we didn’t speak that much then, even with all the bickering. It still felt nice, y’know? To have someone that actually listened to what I was saying. So, when you left, I didn’t know what to do. I — I felt lost.”

A shuddering breath, a startled heartbeat, blue eyes falling shut.

“I care about you, Keith.” Lance murmured, a secret meant only for Keith’s ears. He took in a deep breath, hoping for courage. “The truth is that I — I…”

_Say it_ , screamed a voice in the back of his mind, again and again, bordering on desperation.

There, on an infirmary bed, with Keith resting on his thighs and with Kosmo nesting his head between his feet. There, in outer space, with the silvery-white glow of the stars to cast light on their faces. There, in the lingering quiet between them. There, right _there_.

_Say it, say it, say it…_

“Keith, I —”

But his voice was eclipsed under the hissing sound of the doors sliding open, words hanging perilously low from the tip of his tongue after a long climb up his throat. Lance turned his head to the side just in time to see Krolia bursting through, the distinct shade of her lavender skin unmistakable under the artificial lights. Behind her stood Kolivan, always an impressive figure with his broad shoulders and permanent scowl etched on his face. Lance had started to wonder if it was a trait commonly shared amongst galra.

“Mom?”

Keith blurted the moment he snapped his head away from Lance, voice raising a couple octaves and eyes doubling in size as he took in the sight of his mother, arms crossed as she awaited by the doors. He quickly scrambled away from Lance’s lap, nearly falling from the bed and onto the cold, hard floor at his haste to create some distance between them. A second too late, Lance was moving along, rising to a sitting position and resting his back against the pillows, praying for the mess of sheets underneath to swallow him whole.

But, as usual, he had no such luck.

Lance could already feel the telltale burn on his cheeks, heart hammering at such a rapid pace he thought it might pierce a hole through his ribcage and roam free, wild and unbound.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” Keith asked after regaining some of his composure. But there was still an edge to his voice, a flush of pink still clinging to his cheekbones.

“Kolivan wanted to see you before he left. I thought now would be a good time.” Krolia said, looking from Keith to Lance with those disconcerting eyes of hers, a frown set between her brows as she considered them. “I’m sorry, did we interrupt something?”

“W — What? No, no, no, of course not! There’s absolutely nothing to interrupt, _nada_ , nothing at all. I mean, we weren’t _doing_ anything. We were just —” Lance squeaked, words mingling together in his rush to explain. A crease formed in Kolivan’s forehead, scowl deepening another fraction. Krolia’s eyebrows shot upwards in puzzlement. “I — I wasn’t… I mean, Keith, he wasn’t… _Shit_ , I —”

“Lance.” Keith snarled through his teeth, jaw clenched tightly. “You’re rambling.”

“I am?” he mumbled weakly, receiving a single nod from Keith. “Oh, shit, _shit_ , I am. I’m sorry mrs. Kogane, uh, Krolia. I mean, uh —”

Beside him, Keith let out a heavy sigh.

“Lance, calm down.” he said reassuringly, eyes turning molten as they poured into Lance’s stormy blue ones. “Just breathe, okay?”

Lance nodded quietly, afraid of what might slip past his lips if he chose to open his mouth. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with air before exhaling a moment later. Keith’s voice had a strange soothing quality to it, numbing his nerves with featherlight touches.

“Hello, Lance.” Krolia called from across the room, a small smile placed between those dark lips.

“H — Hey.” he mustered with some effort, giving her a weak wave of his hand before nervously avoiding her gaze.

“So,” Keith broke the silence that settled soon after, clearing his throat a bit louder than necessary. “You said Kolivan is leaving? Isn’t the Blade coming back to Earth with the rest of us?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Kolivan said as he stepped inside, hands hidden behind his back, shoulders squared and chin lifted high. “We’ll be leaving soon to settle a new base on a nearby planet. This quadrant of the galaxy seemed to have been severely damaged by the Galra Empire, seems like the ideal place to start rebuilding.”

A strangled “Oh” left Keith’s lips, eyes landing on his mother as she took a sit at the edge of the bed, idly running a hand down the coat of fur on Kosmo’s back. She wouldn’t look at him, sharing a meaningful glance with Kolivan. Sitting so close together, Lance could almost feel the tension as it left Keith’s body in palpable waves, his posture becoming stiff as he gripped the sheets between closed fists.

“When are you leaving?” he asked, not to Kolivan — who stood silent and statuesque on the other side of the room —, but to Krolia.

She lifted her eyes to meet his. A crease slowly crept its way between her brows, lips pressed tightly together. Lance felt the sudden urge to reach out to Keith’s hand, to give him something, anything, to hold on to. A lifeline. Solid. Safe. To let him know he was not alone, and that from now on he would never again feel lonely.

_I’m here_ , he so desperately wanted to say. _I’m here and I’m not letting go._

“Keith —”

“It’s okay, mom.” Keith cut in, voice clipped as he forced the words out. “There are people out there who need you. I get it.”

Her eyes softened then, unbelievably so, and Lance watched as her hard exterior gave way to a much kinder façade, smiling without a proper smile in that peculiar way only mothers seemed to be able to do. But Keith refused to see it, determined to stare a hole into the nearest wall. And then, feeling a little bit brave and a little bit daring, Lance gave in to his wildest impulses, a tanned hand slithering through crumpled sheets and reaching for long, calloused fingers. Keith’s skin was cold and his knuckles were coarse, littered with freshly healed bruises, and as he squeezed Lance’s hand in return, he thought perhaps that’s exactly what they had been made to do. To hold him, to never let go.

“Keith, I’m not going.” Krolia said, calm and overly collected, like the dutiful soldier she was.

Keith let out a small gasp, gripping Lance’s hand in a bone-crushing hold. The kind that would leave the skin around his knuckles a milky white instead of honey-like brown, the kind that would leave a mark that might last for a couple of hours or for a couple of days, the kind that hurt in the most pleasurable of ways.

“What?” he asked, almost child-like in his hopefulness.

“I’m staying here, with you.” Krolia said, matter-of-factly. And, then, a little gentler she added. “I miss Earth. I miss _you_. I promised I wouldn’t leave you again, so now I’m being true to my word.”

“But the Blade…” Keith struggled, losing his grip on the words. “They need you there, they —”

“You need me more.”

Keith didn’t say anything, but Lance could see his lips moving, or maybe trembling would be a more accurate description. He knew how hard it had been for Keith to watch his mother leave — _again_ —, how desperately he’d wanted her to stay, to be there for him like she’d never been before while he was growing up. Because although two years on a giant space whale seemed like plenty of time to catch up and build a solid relationship with your estranged mother, it still wasn’t enough.

Lance wondered if any amount of time given to them would ever be enough. And, suddenly, he felt like an intruder to an intimate moment meant solely for the two of them and he thought perhaps he should leave, go somewhere else. Somewhere he actually belonged, somewhere —

“Is everything alright, red paladin?”

Lance looked up, stumbling into Kolivan’s yellow orbs, forehead crinkled with even more lines than before, arms now firmly curled in front of his chest. From the corner of his eye, he caught Keith staring intently at his profile, the grip on his hand tightening, tightening, until a persistent throb settled under his skin, pain flaring his senses and startling his body into motion.

“I — Yeah, I’m fine. I — It’s nothing really.” he mumbled rather awkwardly, avoiding direct eye contact with the Blade leader.

Keith raised his eyebrows in silent question, an unspoken “ _Are you sure?”_ hovering in the space between them.

Lance felt trapped under the scrutiny of all those different set of eyes currently directed at him — yellow, purple, a deep indigo —, all of them searching, expectant in various shades of concern.

“Oh, then we did interrupt something earlier.” Krolia exclaimed, eyes widening as she turned around to share a look with Kolivan. “Perhaps we should come back another time.”

To which Kolivan simply nodded, already detaching his back from the wall and making his way towards the automatic doors.

“W — Wait! I — That’s not it, I was just —” more fumbling with words, more biting on his bottom lip. A resigned sigh and then, “L — Look, I just thought maybe you guys would want some… Space? This feels like a family bonding moment and I — I’m not really, y’know, _family_.”

Keith gripped his hand in a bone-crushing hold, eyes boring into his with an intensity Lance had yet to see mirrored in anyone else’s eyes. It brought a shiver down his spine, a knot coiling in his throat, constricting his airways as it grew larger, larger, larger.

And, because he was Keith and words had never come naturally to him, Lance knew he constantly relied on action and the occasional grand gesture. So, he was caught slightly off-guard when sound did leave Keith’s mouth, albeit harsher than what he’d like to hear.

“Shut up, Lance.” Keith barked, dark flames dancing behind his lashes.

Lance blinked, trying to swallow and sputtering a string of disjointed noises instead.

“But I… I was just —”

One look into Keith’s eyes and, for once, Lance clamped his mouth shut; cheeks ablaze at the sidelong glance Krolia gave them, piercing eyes lingering longer than necessary on their intertwined hands. Lance experienced a strange sense of _déjà vu_ , transported back to the previous morning — or the equivalent of that when travelling through space —, when he woke up alone in Keith’s room, hands pressed together in a loose embrace, and with only Krolia to keep him company.

Keith was looking at him in a way that spoke volumes, as if to tell him to stay, as if to tell him that’s exactly where he belonged. _Here_ , Lance’s ears rang with the phantom echo of Keith’s voice. _With me._

He didn’t move for the remaining of the time they spent all cluttered in Keith’s room, slowly but steadily easing into the warm presence at his side and growing used to the furtive glances Krolia continuously sent their way, something strongly resembling a smile crawling between her lips, almost as if she knew something none of them did. A secret she preferred to keep to herself.

And, chancing a look back at Keith, Lance felt a tinge of guilt. Because the truth was that he could hardly blame her for keeping secrets when he’d been doing the same for as long as he could remember.

* * *

 

Soon after Krolia and Kolivan left, Lance felt his pocket vibrate with an insistent buzz. It was Allura, letting him know all paladins were requested at the control room.

_“Immediately.”_ she’d said, fading from the screen a moment later.

And, then, with a loud gasp Keith came to the horrifying realization that he had nothing to wear other than that hideous infirmary gown, which was far from ideal when you were the head of the strongest, deadliest weapon in all of the universe. Not a good image to pass to the Atlas crew, or anyone else for that matter.

This was how Lance found himself back at the housing quarters of the ship, slithering past sets of identical doors as he searched for the room they had assigned for the leader of Voltron, having assumed — wrongly, apparently — that he’d be well enough not to require medical attention upon his return. It didn’t take Lance long to find it, given it was a short walking distance from where his own quarters were located. Paladins of Voltron should all remain close together, someone had said when explaining the arrangement. Lance didn’t mind, not really. Not when it left him only a handful of steps away from Keith.

Walking through the doors, Lance allowed himself a moment of introspection to simply appreciate the fact that he was in Keith’s room. Well, it wasn’t his _real_ room, by any means, like the one at the Garrison. But it was close enough.

Lance remembered Shiro had been the one responsible to take Keith’s belongings there, since they were closer than the rest of them and it felt a bit like an invasion of privacy to meddle with his stuff. But Keith didn’t own much, Lance now realized as he caught sight of the red uniform carefully folded on top of the untouched bed, his old fingerless gloves sitting next to his neglected bayard.

All that was missing was his Marmoran blade, safely tucked under one of Lance’s pillows back in his own room. Maybe he could make a quick detour on his way back to the med bay.

The doors opened with a hiss and just as Lance was about to step through, he stumbled upon Acxa, awkwardly standing in the middle of the corridor, shifting on her feet and staring hard into Lance’s eyes, drinking in the wrong shade of blue.

“You’re not Keith.” she deadpanned.

“I — No, I’m not.”

Acxa clenched her jaw, a frown set between a pair of thin brows. Underneath her eyes, matching circles painted her skin a mottled shade of purple, a slightly darker shade than the rest of her face.

“Acxa, what are you doing here?” Lance asked.

“I was told Keith had been discharged from the medical ward, so I thought I might find him here.” she said, matter-of-factly. Then, treading carefully, she added. “I wanted to… Apologize.”

Lance stood unmoving by the doorstep, as still as a statue, arms tightly wrapped around Keith’s uniform and bayard, caging them safely to his chest. In front of him, only a couple steps away, Acxa returned to her usual quietness, claws idly scratching her stomach.

Lance narrowed his eyes at her, taking in the pale blue of her skin, the violet crescent moons blooming just below her eyes.

“And were _you_ discharged too?” he asked, although he already suspected what her answer might be. Acxa suddenly went very still.

“No, not really.” she said with a defeated sigh, quick to amend. “But I needed to find Keith. Veronica said it’s important to fix the mistakes you might commit along the way. And I wronged him, deeply.”

Lance choked on his own breath, a puff of air coming out as a strangled scoff instead. The noise earned him a puzzled look from Acxa, who now studied him carefully. A wariness to the expression on her face, eyes guarded and hesitant.

“My sister, the wise one.” he mused quietly, shaking his head to himself and biting his lip so he wouldn’t give in to the urge to laugh out loud. “I’m guessing you galra people aren’t really familiar with the whole apology thing, are you?”

“From where I come from, this would be perceived as a sign of weakness.” Acxa provided.

Lance gave her a slow nod of his head, trying to be reassuring. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d succeeded.

“Right, sure. Well, here, we see this as strength.” he offered, earning a questioning look from Acxa. “It takes a lot of courage to claim your own mistakes, to acknowledge you were wrong. Besides, it’s not like you’ve never done it before… You apologized to me, remember?”

Acxa nodded, slow and thoughtful, eyes narrowing as the engines turned inside her head, awakening memories that had long been buried in the sands of time. Lance waited as the quiet settled between them once again.

“Did I earn your forgiveness then?” Acxa asked, low and gentle. Her voice carried a slight lilt of doubt, something Lance was unfamiliar with coming from those blue-tinted lips, always so assertive, so sure.

“I —” Lance frowned, swallowing thickly. “Why are you asking me this now?”

“Because even though I apologized it still doesn’t feel enough, or… Right.” she said with a wince, refusing to meet Lance’s eyes as she went on. “And I need it to be. It’s important for me, to become better, to prove them wrong.”

Acxa’s words pulled at some of the loose strings of his heart, burrowing themselves in his ribcage and pounding a familiar tune into his ears. And, then, it dawned on Lance. Why her words had resounded with him. Why he felt as though he’d already seen that particular look in her eyes. Why she —

“It’s about Veronica, isn’t it?”

Acxa’s eyes went wide with shock, jaw falling slack as she struggled to find her voice.

“No, it’s —”

“Don’t worry about it, Acxa. I’ve already forgiven you.” Lance said with a resigned sigh, sparing her the effort. “I have for a long time now.”

Acxa blinked, mystified.

“You have?”

“Yeah, I mean, you literally jumped in front of a sword for me.” Lance said, followed closely behind by a humorless chuckle. “You saved my life, Acxa. I could be dead if it wasn’t for you, so it only seems fair, y’know? To give you another chance.”

And from the absolute look of bewilderment Acxa aimed at him, Lance quickly came to the realization that no, that’s most definitely not what she was expecting to hear from him. Denial, rejection. That would have been the logical response, at least in her mind. But Lance was well-acquainted with all the regret and the grief that inevitably came after committing a terrible, life-altering mistake. After hurting someone you deeply cared about. And the truth is that he had wronged Acxa as well, the moment he chose to build a wall between them for the sake of his jealous heart.

How foolish and childish he’d been.

Maybe…

Maybe the time had finally come for him to become better, to prove them wrong.

All of them.

Acxa stared at him for a moment longer — or perhaps _glared_ would be a more appropriate term —, silence stretching in the empty spaces left between them, filling it with large amounts of uncertainty and bitter hesitation.

A crease melted away from her forehead, once again smooth and unblemished. Her eyes — yellow and blue and a little violet — were no longer haunted with conflict.

And, then, as softly as any trained soldier could muster, she spoke again.

“Thank you, Lance.”

A nod, a polite smile, sharp nails clawing on fabric, pulling, pulling, relentless.

“You’re going to see him now, aren’t you?” Acxa asked, staring pointedly at Lance’s busy arms. He lowered his eyes and released a short breath, as if suddenly reminded of Keith’s few belongings carefully nested against his chest. Hesitantly, Lance nodded. “Do you think Keith could forgive me?”

There was a pause.

Loaded, pregnant.

Lance parted his lips with a soundless gasp, thoughts reeling with possibilities, with _yes’s_ and _no’s_ and everything in between. Because Keith could be such a difficult person to read at times, so closed-off, so unpredictable. But Lance liked to think he was one of the few people who knew at least a fraction of that golden heart of his. Forgiveness, Lance thought, was not in his nature. He’d been let down enough times in his life, taken advantage of, lied to. His trust had been built and rebuilt, over and over, only to crumble to a pile of hurt, caving to a cloud of dust and ruins. Again and again and —

How many times could someone have their heart broken before deciding the risks weren’t worth it?

The galra believed forgiveness was weakness, that it made them vulnerable, _fragile_.

Keith might not be a full-blooded galra, but he’d endured enough pain and betrayal to hide his heart away in the tallest of towers. Unreachable. Guarded by a garden of sharp, deadly thorns, like the stuff born from fairytales.

Lance’s voice stumbled weakly from his tongue, wavering like a leaf during a storm, threadbare until finally breaking from its branch, lost to the wind.

“I don’t think so, no.” he said with pain-stricken honesty, sad blue eyes following the downward arc drawn by Acxa’s slumping shoulders. “At least, not _now_. But I think he could, eventually. Someday. He just… Needs time.”

And Acxa seemed to have understood, because there was no rebuttal, no faltering “But,” or bitter retorts. Only silence and a single nod of her head. Her eyes, though, they spoke volumes, static ringing loud in Lance’s ears as they exchanged a lingering look, both of them waiting for the other to finally muster the courage to break the silence.

In the end, it was Lance.

“I’m on my way to see him. Keith, I mean. If you want to, you could come along and, I don’t know, _talk_ to him or something.” he said with a shrug, going for nonchalance and sounding somewhat convincing. “Or, I could walk you back to your room before my sister notices you’re gone. Seems like you could use some more rest, anyway.”

Acxa seemed to mull over his offer, brows knitted together, hand going still against her stomach, the crumpled fabric of her shirt suddenly forgotten. She breathed in, and out, and in again. Until conceding Lance with an answer, at last.

“Perhaps you’re right.” she began, unsure. Lance prompted her with a quirk of his brows. “Perhaps I should give Keith time and wait a little longer before talking to him.”

“Well, I’m definitely not Veronica, but I think that’s _very_ wise of you.”

The walk back to the medical ward was a long, silent one. But far from being uncomfortable. Acxa was considerably less talkative than Hunk or Pidge — definitely less talkative than Keith, which Lance once believed to be an impossible feat —, and Lance refrained himself from saying too much, too fast. It was a lesson on patience, he decided.

They stopped in front of a blank set of doors, in a hallway Lance was only vaguely familiarized with. He’d been about to mutter some tactless goodbye when the doors whooshed open, a cold gust of air reaching the side of his face and raising goosebumps down his neck and arms. He turned, abruptly. And his vision was washed away by a dark, blue ocean. A storm brewing at the horizon, waves breaking at the shore with a rumble of thunder.

“Oh, hey, Ronnie.” he managed with a weak smile, lips faltering as lightening stroke in those familiar eyes.

“Lance, what are you —” Veronica began, only to stop herself at the sight of Acxa, a silent presence at Lance’s side. “And _you_ —” she seethed, eyes narrowing into slits of stormy blue, blazing like twin blue flames. “What are you doing out of bed? The doctors said you need to _rest_ , Acxa. What part of that do you not understand?”

“I’m —”

“Don’t you dare say you’re _fine_.” Veronica cut her off before she even had a chance to begin, pointing angrily at her chest. “I know that you’re not fine. In fact, you’re very _far_ from _fine._ And don’t even try to argue with me because I grew up with this one —” she amended, now pointing a thumb at Lance, who watched that entire exchange with wide, frightened eyes. “— And I know when someone is trying to hide how _not fine_ they really are. So, you better get back to bed before you end up opening your stitches.”

Lance was familiar with Veronica’s small outbursts, he’d grown up with her after all, and most often than not he ended up being on the receiving end of her occasional temper. And, as he witnessed the fire burning once again in those blue, blue eyes, Lance came to the conclusion that she was just as terrifying now as she was back then, when they were stupid, reckless kids chasing each other on the white coast of Varadero Beach, splashing water and leaving a cloud of sand behind their backs, as the sun kissed their skin.

Acxa flashed Lance a quick glance, lips softening into something that could almost pass for a smile.

“Thank you again, Lance. I appreciate your honesty.” she said, to which Lance blankly nodded.

And there she went, past him and through the doors, sparing Veronica a feathery kiss on the side of her face before disappearing completely from sight. Lance watched, completely dumbfounded, the effortless display of affection. How endlessly tender and _easy_ it all had seemed to him, as an outsider.

“So, you and Acxa, huh?” he managed after clearing his throat, a lopsided smile spreading between his lips.

“Shut up, Lance.” Veronica bristled, hissing through her teeth as her cheeks burned a bright red, turning brighter by the second.

“Calm down, will ya? I’m happy for you, big sis.”

“You are?” she asked, droplets of doubt dripping from her tone. “Even knowing she, uh, made some _very_ questionable choices in the past?”

“Yeah. We’re good.”

At that, Veronica’s eyebrows shot upwards, disappearing behind a curly fringe.

“Yeah, now that you’ve mentioned…” she mused, drawling out the words. “What the hell was _that_? When did you and my girlfriend become friends?”

Lance shrugged.

“I think calling us _friends_ is a bit of a stretch.” he argued to a very unimpressed, stone-faced Veronica. “What? Nothing happened. We were just talking.”

“Talking?”

“Yeah, _talking_.”

Veronica narrowed her eyes at him, a soft humming sound escaping from the back of her throat. Still, she looked unconvinced, arms now curled before her chest as she flawlessly embodied a posture that Lance was used to seeing in their mother.

“There’s something you’re not telling me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” she said, almost managing to muster mamá’s menacing tone, but falling slightly short. It was actually strangely endearing, and Lance could feel his lips split into a smile. _God_ , he missed them… His family. “What are you smiling at? Did I say something funny to you?”

“No. It’s nothing. I just —” he paused, chewing on his lip before adding with a small shake of his head. “I think you’re good for her, Ronnie.”

Veronica scrunched her face, lines forming between her eyebrows.

“You think — _What_?”

“Wish I could stay and talk, big sis. But Keith is waiting for me, so, y’know, _hasta la vista_!” Lance called out with a dismissive wave of his hand, scurrying away in a haste.

All Veronica did was stare, as if lost in a haze. Eyes clouding over, lips parting soundlessly.

But, before she could say anything else, Lance was gone.

* * *

 

The doors hissed closed behind Lance and a stale, artificial air greeted him in a cold embrace. He breathed in the infirmary air, so terribly empty, lacking. Always lacking. Lance was reminded then how this _nothingness_ had always bothered him, even as a young kid during his quick visits at the hospital to take care of a broken arm or a sprained ankle. That smell — or the lack of it — had never settled within him, always prickling at his fingertips, raising the hairs at the nape of his neck, causing his stomach to churn with a deep-rooted sense of unease, rolling off of his skin in waves of anxiety.

_Go,_ his body seemed to scream at him _, turn around. Leave. Go, go, go_ —

His mamá usually held him during those short trips to the doctor, calloused fingers tightly curled around a bony wrist or bruised knuckles. She never once had loosened her grip, altogether vicious and tender, like all mothers are. She’d never let him run. Lance remembered crying, struggling with his bound wrist, promising he was fine, he was fine. On and on. But nothing ever worked. Not even once.

She would take one look at him — eyes so blue Lance used to think they were made from the same stuff as the ocean —, and her eyebrows would knit together. The creases would fade from her forehead, her eyes would leak with motherly affection, too much to be contained in such small pools of blue. Then, Lance remembered, she would come down on her knees, so they’d be at the same height, and she would cup the side of his face, muttering a soft, low _“Cariño”_ immediately followed by an even softer, even lower _“Don’t cry. This will all be over soon”._

His mamá had been right, of course. It was always over soon, and then he would go back to the beach — sometimes with a bright blue cast wrapped around his arm, sometimes with white bandages hiding away his fresh bruises —, the pain suddenly forgotten. Easy and simple and over all too soon, just like his mother had told him.

Now, as he stepped inside Keith’s room, he thought of his mamá’s words, her voice a calm, soothing presence in the back of his mind.

_This will all be over soon._

Kosmo was the first to notice the sudden presence in the room, jumping from the bed and barking excitedly at Lance’s feet. A hearty chuckle erupted from his throat and he clutched to Keith’s belongings a bit tighter at the heavy pressure of Kosmo’s paws against his hips as the wolf climbed on his hind legs.

“Hey, buddy, it’s good to see you too.” Lance said between chuckles, a large smile splitting his face in half. Back on all four legs, Kosmo wagged his tail, golden eyes gleaming back at him.

Lifting his eyes towards the bed, Lance felt a pang of disappointment burrow deep in his chest, words fading into wisps of sound at the empty mattress, sheets left abandoned in a crumpled mess. He frowned, wondering where Keith might have disappeared to.

“Where’s your dad, huh?” he lowered his eyes back at Kosmo, who tilted his head in return. Considering. Waiting for a command. “C’mon, boy. Take me to him.”

Kosmo barked in what Lance considered to be understanding — or close enough —, turning around and trotting towards the set of sliding doors that led to a small bathroom.

“Hey, Keith,” Lance called out, following Kosmo through the open doors. “I got you some clothes and —”

But as he lifted his eyes from the bundle of fabric nested in his arms, Lance felt as though he’d suddenly forgotten how to breathe. The air pushed out of his lungs in one single, violent blow. He came to an abrupt stop, fingers curling around Keith’s uniform, tighter, tighter, blunt nails scratching the cold metallic surface of his bayard. Lance searched for anything he could hold on to, some semblance of balance. Because there — right _there_ in front of him — was Keith, wearing nothing but his underwear, infirmary gown pooling around his ankles, all but forgotten.

Lance drank in his nakedness. Body on display, completely bare but for a short stretch of dark fabric around his hips, covering his backside, taken directly from what appeared to be one of Lance’s extensive fantasies.

He swallowed the knot slowly forming and re-forming at the base of his throat, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue as his eyes trailed the sinuous path sculpted by the muscles on Keith’s back, from a pair of broad shoulders all the way down to a pair of dimples at his tailbone, committing every curve, every crevice to memory. Mentally, Lance counted the pale scars that covered alabaster skin like intrinsic patchwork. All thirteen of them. Some big and with blurred, jagged edges. Others small and barely perceptible unless you already knew what you were looking for.

Lance thought he could remember how most of them had been acquired during their time as paladins of Voltron — he had plenty of those himself —, wounds so deep, so gruesome not even a healing pod was able to heal without leaving a trail of silvery-white marks as a somber reminder. There were other scars, however, he was unfamiliar with, slightly darker than the rest, more recent-looking. Keith had probably gotten those from the missions he had to carry for the Blade of Marmora, Lance thought bitterly.

In the mirror, Keith’s eyes flashed towards him and he turned around, hands falling limp from his face and resting at the sides of his body, looking away from his reflected image and diving into the liquid pool of blue in Lance’s eyes.

“Lance, you’re back.” Keith breathed out, seemingly unaffected by the unusual position they currently found themselves in. As if the fact that Lance had seen him — _all_ of him — didn’t bother him in the slightest. “What took you so long, anyway?”

“I — I was just —” Lance tried, swallowing thickly as his eyes strayed down to the solid planes of Keith’s chest, the slim curve of his waist, following a thin, dark trail of hair down his bellybutton. Lower, lower, lower —

“Lance? Is everything okay?” Keith asked, one eyebrow raised.

Lance blinked back towards Keith’s eyes, cheeks flushed a deep red at being caught staring, he was sure of it.

“I — Yeah, yeah, everything is good. Great, actually. _Perfecto_.” he squeaked, voice cracking at all the wrong places. Keith’s eyebrows went up higher and Lance felt his cheeks growing warmer. “Why… Why wouldn’t it be?”

Keith narrowed his eyes at him, unconvinced.

“You’re acting weird.” he deadpanned. At Lance’s confused expression, he amended. “Well, weirder than usual.”

“I’m not _weird_. You’re the one who’s running around wearing nothing but underwear.” Lance countered, shoving Keith’s belongings back at him in a careless throw and purposefully avoiding any direct contact with his bare chest. “Here, put some clothes on, you heathen.”

And then he was stomping away in a frenzied haste, with nothing but the muffled echo of Keith’s confused mumbling as the doors hissed closed behind him. Outside, Lance released a long, trembling sigh. His breath hitched and his eyes squeezed shut, the delicate skin at the nape of his neck absorbing the cold from the metal walls, freezing him in place.

“Damn those galra genes…” he grumbled under his breath, running both hands through his hair, pulling softly at some of the longer strands, curling around the edges.

His thoughts betrayed him, reeling with memories of Keith, the image of his sculpted torso imprinted in crimson behind his eyelids. Strong, lean muscles. Smooth, milky-white skin, blemished with ribbons of silvery scars and splotches of multicolored bruises, purples turning into ashen greens and mottled yellows, blurring around the edges like an old, abstract painting. Lance wondered if that’s what Keith was doing in there before his abrupt arrival, cataloguing all of his fresh wounds, searching for any sign of brand-new scars.

Lance felt a pang in his chest, spreading like wildfire through his body, fingers aching to touch, to comfort.

_Beautiful_ , he wanted to say, _you are beautiful._

“Lance?” came Keith’s muffled voice from the other side of the door, forcing Lance’s eyes open. “You still in there?”

With a deep inhale, Lance parted his lips.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Keith said. Tentative, careful. “What took you so long? I thought you said you knew where they were keeping my stuff.”

“I did, it was just —” Lance paused, exhaling through his mouth. “I ran into Acxa on the way back.”

“Acxa?”

Lance hummed in affirmation, chewing on his bottom lip before mustering the courage to continue.

“Yeah, she went there looking for you. She wanted to apologize.” Lance said and was met with absolute silence.

He focused on his breathing, waiting for a response from Keith. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

But there was nothing other than the quiet rustle of clothes, a low grunting noise in the background.

“Keith?” he tried. Soft, pleading.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

He was about to give it yet another try when the door to the bathroom burst open with a loud hiss. Keith emerged not a tick later, hair in disarray and shirt only partially buttoned up, leaving his collarbones exposed. Lance’s eyes were drawn to the slope of his neck, a patch of pearly white skin peeking through the unbuttoned collar of his uniform. Lance could feel himself blushing once again, temperature rising.

What was _wrong_ with him?

That was most definitely not the first time Lance had seen Keith’s bare chest, but something felt different now. Charged. Electricity lingered in the air between them, thrumming quietly, almost like a featherlight caress, soft and gentle and yet capable of raising every hair on his arms.

“Apologize? Are you sure?” came Keith’s puzzled question, eyebrows furrowed.

Lance nodded with a hesitant movement of his head, words lost to the fog clouding his every coherent thought. He needed to do something about that patch of exposed skin or else he thought he might explode.

“That doesn’t sound like her.” Keith mused absently, eyes downcast as he adjusted his bayard to his belt, hands climbing upwards to finish buttoning up his jacket.

“Let me.” Lance caught himself saying, clearing his throat a bit louder than necessary. Keith frowned at how fast he was approaching.

In two short strides, Lance closed the distance between their bodies, hands coming to rest on either side of Keith’s neck, fingers curling around the red collar of his uniform, tips brushing against the soft skin peeking from underneath. At the smallest touch, Keith’s breath hitched in the back of his throat, his eyes opening wide.

“What are you —”

“Helping you look somewhat presentable, Kogane.” Lance cut in, working on the buttons of his shirt with agile fingers. “You’re the Black Paladin, remember? You need to look the part of the fearless leader.”

At that, Keith laughed. A bright, melodic sound that went straight through Lance’s heart. He nearly missed a button, muttering a curse in broken Spanish.

“What does that mean?” Keith asked, throat rumbling below Lance’s hands as he reached the high-collar of his jacket, closing the last of the buttons.

“It _means_ stop distracting me while I’m trying to make you look like you didn’t spend the last two days chained to a bed.” Lance retorted, stubbornly refusing to meet Keith’s amethyst eyes. He dragged his hands down a hard chest, smoothing any crumpled lines along the way and allowing his fingers to linger a moment longer on the golden insignia pinned just above his beating heart. A ‘V’ for Voltron, inspired after their paladin armor. “There. Now you look like a proper leader, the fearless paladin of the mighty Black Lion.”

At that, Keith scoffed, eyes lowered and lips pursed. Lance frowned, taken aback by the sudden change in him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, hand stilling over Keith’s chest, counting each steady beat of his heart as it thrummed through his fingertips.

“I just… I don’t feel like a fearless leader. I don’t —” a sigh, a sharp inhale. “I wasn’t even _there_ , Lance. I was never there to help you guys, to _lead_ you, like I was supposed to. Instead, I was the one you were meant to be fighting.”

“Keith —”

“That’s not a leader. That’s a failure.”

Lance frowned, fingers curling around the fabric of Keith’s uniform, unwilling to let go.

“Keith, the Black Lion chose _you_. He could have picked any of us, but it was you he deemed worthy to pilot him. Not me, not Allura. _You_.” Lance said in a firm voice, deep and filled with an unwavering certainty. “Shiro was right when he chose you to replace him. This is what you were born to do. And even back then he could already see that. You’re meant for greatness, Keith. Extraordinary things. I just _know_ it.”

He held Keith’s gaze, one of his hands rubbing small, soothing circles on his arm. When he spoke again, Lance’s voice was reminiscent of a whisper.

“What happened in Haggar’s ship wasn’t your fault. You had no control over your actions. _She_ did.” he murmured. “It wasn’t you. It was all her. All of it. So, stop blaming yourself, okay?”

Keith blinked. Once, twice. A crease slowly faded from between his eyebrows, forehead once again smooth behind thick locks of hair.

“You’re the leader we chose, Keith. Don’t ever feel like you’re not important to the team.”

_To me._

“And I’m…” a short pause, and then, softly, “I’m really proud to be your second in command.”

Lance made to pull his hand away, but he didn’t get far. A surprised gasp left his lips as strong, calloused fingers wrapped around his wrist, rooting him in place. Lance snapped his eyes at Keith, who looked down at him with fierce intent. Eyes so dark, so deep they seemed to swallow every speck of light in the room.

“Thanks, Lance.” he murmured softly, absently drawing circles on the inside of Lance’s wrist. “Listen, I —”

“Yeah?” Lance breathed out.

Keith tilted his head slightly forward, loose strands of hair grazing Lance’s cheekbones and causing his skin to tingle. He inhaled sharply, trapping the air in his lungs, chest expanding painfully.

“Lance,” Keith whispered, breath warm against Lance’s lips. There it was again, a change in the atmosphere. Electricity coursing through his body, charging his nerve-endings, running in his blood and burrowing deep into his bones. Powerful and all-consuming. “There’s something I —”

Static filled the small space separating their bodies. Lance heard a familiar buzzing noise and then the sound of Allura’s voice reached his ears, echoing against the walls as she called him through the communication line.

_"Lance, are you there?”_

In one swift movement, Lance snatched his hand away from Keith’s strong hold, mourning the sudden absence of his touch, the steady pressure of his fingers, the warmth gone, gone, gone. Cold panic slipped between his ribs and filled his veins with ice.

With trembling fingers, Lance pulled the device from his pocket, chest deflating in a heavy exhale before he brought it closer to his face.

“I — I’m here, Allura. What is it?”

_"Where are you? We need you and Keith in the control room_ now _.”_ she boomed through the speakers.

Lance sighed, running his free hand down the nape of his neck and pulling at some of the short curls there. Keith eyed him expectantly, jaw clenched and lips pursed. Lance caught a glimpse of a light shade of pink still dusting the apple of his cheeks and he could feel his blood boiling just below the surface of his skin.

“We’re on our way.” came his weak reply, device once again silent and buried inside his pocket. Lance swallowed, one, two times before shattering the silence that had settled between them. “We should, uh, we should go. It sounds like the team needs us.”

“Right… You, um, you’re probably right.” Keith murmured, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Then, with a firm nod of his head, “Let’s go, then.”

But Lance found it hard to move when all he could hear was the words Keith had left unspoken, hovering in the air around them like a phantom, or a curse. They haunted his body to stillness, legs turned to stone, eyes unblinking as he watched Keith go, go, go. One step after the other. Closer to the doors and farther away from him. And, still, Lance couldn’t move. Paralyzed by the echo of Keith’s voice, reverberating in his ears as his mind filled in all the blank spaces Keith had left behind.

_Keith is in love with you._

Was that what he’d been about to tell him when Allura interrupted them? That he —

“Lance, are you coming?”

Lance’s eyes shifted back to Keith, hand over the control panel by the automatic doors. He promptly squared his shoulders, erasing any sign on his face that might betray his most recent thoughts. He forced his lips into a smile that lacked any real humor, but enough to fool Keith from a distance. He tucked his hands back into his pockets and ordered his feet to move, catching a glimpse of Kosmo’s bushy tail as the wolf trailed close behind.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

* * *

 

Lance breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of familiar voices coming from across the set of heavy-looking doors. He hurried to match Keith’s footsteps, chest expanding with the longing to see his friends again after what felt like forever locked inside that infirmary room. Looking at his side, he noticed Keith was just as eager.

It was subtle, like everything else about him. But Lance had been watching for a long, long time and he knew what every taut line of his face meant. Every strained tug of his lips, every crease on his forehead. And, in that moment, he could see clear as a summer day in Varadero just how much Keith _wanted_. To be in there, with the rest of them. To be a paladin of Voltron. To be a brother, a friend, a leader. To _belong_.

Lance closed his hand into a tight fist, fighting against the need to reach out to Keith, that magnetic field once again pulling at his mind, his body.

Now was not the time, he mentally told himself. There would be a place and a moment for them to figure out what they really meant for each other, what he was to Keith. If small touches like that would be allowed, or even desired. He just had to wait a bit longer. What was that saying he heard Shiro teaching Keith one day at the training deck?

Oh, right…

_Patience yield focus._

Lance wasn’t entirely sure it applied to this type of situation, but he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. It was either that or being awash under a wave of crippling anxiety. Which wasn’t much of a choice at all.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Keith asked in a voice so soft it brought a tingle to the tip of Lance’s fingers. “You haven’t said anything all the way here. It’s —”

“Don’t say weird.”

“Fine.” he grumbled instead, chewing on his bottom lip before speaking again. “It’s just… I’m not used to you being quiet, that’s all.”

Lance looked back at Keith, at the concerned furrow of his brows, and he could feel his stomach coiling in on itself. Slowly, painfully.

“I’m fine, I just have a lot on my mind.” he conceded. “Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time.”

Keith heaved a sigh, heavy with resignation.

“Yeah, me too.”

“We could talk later, if you want to.” Lance suggested, treading carefully. “You know, after we see what Allura so desperately wants with us.”

Keith nodded and that was enough to unravel the constricting knot slowly growing inside Lance’s chest.

“Okay.” Lance let out a shaky exhale. “Okay, good. That’s good. So, um, later.”

_Patience yield focus_ , Lance recited to himself, urging to remain calm despite the ball of nerves currently pressing down on his throat, a confession trapped behind tightly closed lips. He swallowed with some difficulty, breathing in and out as he made his way to the doors. He had his hand on the locking panel when he noticed Keith was no longer at his side, standing a couple steps behind alongside Kosmo.

He had his eyes trained forward, hands curling into fists at his sides, looking terribly naked without those hideous gloves to cover them.

“Keith?” indigo eyes travelled towards Lance’s face, but he remained silent. “Are _you_ okay?”

Lance could practically see Keith struggling with what to say, as he usually did, fighting against some basic instinct deeply ingrained in him to build up his defenses, to push away anyone who dared come a little closer before they had a chance to leave him behind.

“Just feeling a bit nervous, I guess.” Keith said, choosing to tear the walls down, uncharacteristically vocal about his feelings.

_Improvement_ , Lance thought.

“Well, don’t be.” Lance moved away from the doors, fingers grazing the leathery fabric buried deep into one of his pockets. “Those guys in there are your family. I bet they’re all excited to see you out of that infirmary bed and back on your feet.”

Lance smiled, reaching into his pocket to pull out a pair of old, worn fingerless gloves.

“I found these in your room, with your uniform and bayard. Shiro must have kept them after —” Lance swallowed. It still hurt to think about what had happened, some wounds had yet to begin to scar. “Here. Take it.”

Keith’s eyes widened in surprise, picking them up from Lance’s open palms and slowly tugging them on, flexing his fingers as he got used to the coarse material once again.

“See? Nothing’s changed. Your questionable fashion sense remains intact.” Lance said, only partially jokingly, curling a lock of dark hair between his fingers. “And so is your terrible taste in hairstyles.”

Keith smiled, the rare, open kind. And Lance felt his heart stutter in his chest, losing precious tempo before fluttering back to a less frantic pace.

“Thanks, Lance.”

And there was _something_ about the way Keith had looked at him. An echo of a spark, enough to ignite a fire deep inside. Lance gave in to his selfish impulses, the ones that told him to _touch_ , and _feel_ , and _comfort_. He pulled Keith by the hand, having a feel of the leather and the warmth pouring from the tips of his exposed fingers, hopefully masking the eagerness of his actions with the haste to see the others, claiming they had been waiting long enough and that Allura had something important to share with all of them.

When they finally reached the doors, Keith was still reluctant. He squeezed Lance’s hand in a bone-crushing grasp, hard enough to make him wince from the pressure around his knuckles. Still, Lance refused to let go.

They shared a look before going inside, both of them so attuned to one another words were hardly ever needed. The soles of their boots echoed against the metal floors; the hiss of the doors drowned out by a cacophony of loud voices.

Lance frowned as he took in the sight of Allura, massaging her temples, eyes closed as if deep in thought. Lotor hovered close to her, like a dutiful shadow, arms crossed and jaw clenched as he glared at Pidge, whose hands were now flying in the air in exasperation, mouth curled into a frown as words slipped past their lips. Harsh words, angry words. They were pissed, and it was plain for everyone in the room to see.

“Pidge, c’mon, don’t be like this.” Hunk murmured, resting both hands on Pidge’s bony shoulders, just like he used to do with Lance whenever things became too hectic.

Pidge snapped their head at him, piercing Hunk with a sharp gaze.

“Don’t be like _what_?” they snarled, positively dangerous.

“Pidge —” Shiro sighed, running a hand down his face and through the silvery-white strands of his hair.

“No, Shiro! I’m not gonna be okay with this. It’s a stupid idea!” they exclaimed, voice rising to obnoxiously loud levels. “How can you be fine with that? How can you just accept the fact that Allura is choosing to leave us?”

Keith let out a suffocated gasp, hand slipping from Lance’s hold, eyes unblinking as he stared straight ahead. Lance felt something break inside his chest at the fear and the confusion marring Keith’s features.

“ _What_?” his voice was no more than a whisper, reaching their ears in a cold gust of wind.

They paused for a brief moment, collectively turning their heads to the side, eyes blown wide in surprise. The room had grown awfully silent and deadly still, its occupants frozen in time with their mouths hanging open, breathing turned shallow, leaving their lips in soft rasps of air. Lance thought that if he concentrated hard enough, he might be able to catch the muffled echoes of his heart as it thrummed against his ribcage.

“Keith!”

They all exhaled in unison before falling silent once again. It was Shiro who mustered the strength to speak up once the cloud of confusion dissipated, the initial shock turned equal parts relief and contentment. A reluctant smile crept up on his lips.

“Keith, are you feeling better already?”

“I’m fine.” he retorted dismissively, curt and sharp. “What is this about Allura leaving? What is going on?”

“Keith, that’s not what this is.” Allura said, taking a step forward. Lance’s gaze fell on her restless hands, fidgeting with the hem of her jacket.

Behind her, Pidge let out a loud snort, turning their face away and crossing their arms protectively before their chest.

Slowly, Allura turned around, and even from afar Lance was still able to make out the hurt shining in those bright blue eyes.

“Pidge, please —” only silence followed her pleas and she sighed in defeat, turning back towards Keith. “It’s not what Pidge is making it out to be. I’m not abandoning you. This is just something I have to do.”

“What is going on, Allura?” Lance asked, as gently as he could.

She took a deep breath, hands becoming awfully still as she gripped a fistful of pink fabric, knuckles turning pale. And, then, she spoke in a voice that didn’t seem to belong to her. Small, fragile. The change in tone was jarring, plucking sorrowful notes from Lance’s heartstrings.

“I’m leaving Earth after the celebrations.”

“You’re _what_?” Lance blurted, unbidden. “Allura, no, you can’t —”

“Lance,” she cut in, looking at him in a way that made his chest ache. “I have to. I owe it to my people, to give them a second chance. To find them a home.”

“But Altea has been destroyed. And the colony is gone. Where are you even gonna go?”

Allura exchanged a sidelong glance with Lotor, communicating in that silent, intimate way only lovers could. A while back, this might have bothered Lance. But, now, all it brought was a sense of tranquility, as if all of those broken pieces from before were finally placing themselves back together. Lance knew then Allura wouldn’t be going on that journey alone. It was all in the eyes, he thought, how they shone a vivid blue every time she so much as glimpsed at him. It made him wonder if that’s how they knew the truth about his feelings for Keith before he ever got to tell them. If it had been in his eyes all along.

Lance stole a glance at Keith, standing statuesque at his side, face impassive as he waited for Allura to continue.

“We don’t know yet, but Kolivan has been assisting us with the search. It’s only a matter of time before we find a suitable place for us to settle.”

“We? Who’s _we_?” Keith asked, narrowing his eyes at the hand Lotor had placed on Allura’s shoulder.

“Oh, right, I’d almost forgotten about that part.” Pidge grumbled, voice laced with vitriol. “For some reason, Allura thought bringing Lotor with her would be a good idea. They’re going _together_.”

Keith raised his eyebrows, disappearing behind his thick fringe.

“Together?” he echoed.

Lotor let out a long sigh, eyes closing for a brief moment as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked tired, shoulders sagging heavily from the weight of some invisible burden placed there. Allura’s hand came to rest on top of his, curling ever so slightly around his strained knuckles.

“Yes, together. I share Allura’s concerns and responsibilities over our people, in case you’ve forgotten I’m part Altean as well.” Lotor said, matter-of-factly. There was no anger in his voice, no fire either. If anything, he simply sounded annoyed. “How many more times must I explain? I’m not here to harm you or your planet.” he sent Pidge a side glance as he continued, “Or to steal Allura away.”

“I know I made mistakes in the past. I shouldn’t have lied to you, I know that now. And for that I’m deeply sorry. But you didn’t even give me a chance to explain.” he exhaled through his mouth, shaking his head to himself. “Haven’t I done enough? What else do you expect me to do to prove I’ve changed? How long until I can finally be forgiven for my parents’ sins?”

“Lotor,” Shiro spoke in that collected tone of his, always the peacemaker. “If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have been able to rescue Keith and we do believe you’re capable of change —”

“Speak for yourself.” Pidge murmured, loud enough to be heard over the silence that had fell upon the room.

“Pidge, that’s enough.” came Shiro’s chastising tone, urging them to clamp their mouth closed. “We appreciate all that you’ve done to help us defeat Haggar. She was your mother, after all, and I can’t even begin to comprehend how hard it must have been for you.”

“But you have to understand, Lotor, we’re not just paladins of Voltron. We’re _family_.” Shiro said in a stern voice, holding Lotor’s gaze. “You, perhaps better than anyone, must know how difficult it can be to say goodbye to family.”

Lance watched as Allura shook her head, a hesitant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, rueful and almost forlorn. Her eyes settled on him for as long as a heartbeat before drifting towards Keith, then Shiro, Hunk, and finally landing on Pidge.

“This is not goodbye.” she said. “I won’t be gone forever and with the new technology we brought to Earth we’ll still be able to communicate with each other.”

“For how long?” Lance asked.

“It’s hard to tell…” she trailed off, but the meaning was still clear. At least to Lance. He could see it in her eyes, just like before. “There’s so much to be rebuilt, so much that was lost in the war. Their homes, their families. It might be a while.”

“But what about Voltron? You’re still a paladin.” Pidge blurted out, practically stumbling on the words on their rush to get them out. “What if we need you? What if —”

“Pidge,” Allura’s voice was as soothing as a sea breeze, almost motherly. “There’s no need for Voltron anymore. The war has ended. Its role has been fulfilled. You’re free.”

“So, does that mean we’re not paladins anymore?” Hunk asked.

“You’ll _always_ be paladins of Voltron, no matter what.” came Allura’s sharp response and they all fell quiet. “Being a paladin is more than just wearing a suit of armor and piloting a sentient Lion. It’s something that comes from within, it’s engraved in your hearts and in your souls. It’s part of who you are now. No one could ever take it away from you. Never forget that.”

Lance stepped away from beside Keith, moving across the room in large strides, slowly lifting his eyes to meet Allura’s. A blue so light it was almost translucent, like staring into a cloudless sky on a sunny day.

He would miss those eyes.

“You too, Allura.” Lance said. “You’re as much a paladin as the rest of us. Don’t ever forget that.”

And, then, as flimsy as a dream, came a voice from the depths of his mind. It was no more than a distant, trembling echo of sound.

_Don’t ever forget us._

Allura smiled, eyes turning molten around the edges.

“I won’t.” a whispered promise, a subtle touch of hands. “Will you take care of Blue while I’m away?”

Lance returned her smile, as bright and watery as the foam of the Caribbean waves.

“For as long as you need.”

He felt long, delicate fingers snaking around his hand and giving it a light squeeze, skin bare and so impossibly warm it was easy to lose himself to the touch, as chaste and fleeting as it was.

Lance had been too caught up in the moment, basking in the brightness gleaming against Allura’s cheekbones, to notice Keith at his side, casting shadows across the side of his face.

“Allura…” Keith’s voice was a deep, fractured sound. Lance lifted his eyes, meeting the sharp lines of his profile, scar cutting across a clean patch of skin.

“Keith!” she exclaimed, eyes doubling in size. “I’m sorry if this is so last minute. I should have talked to you sooner, but you were still recovering and I didn’t want to —”

“Allura,” he called again, harder. “It’s okay.”

“It is?”

Keith nodded.

“I get it. This is something you have to do, for them and for yourself.” he said, resolute. “What kind of queen would you be if you didn’t help your people when they’re in need?”

A tear rolled down the slope of Allura’s cheek, cutting across a pink Altean mark. A short laugh escaped past her trembling lips, bubbling out of her chest. Lance caught a glimpse of Keith’s sheepish smile, how the corners twitched the tiniest fraction, slightly curling upwards. It left a bittersweet taste in Lance’s mouth, tongue heavy with the weight of unspoken farewells, words clinging to the walls of his throat as if they’d grown claws.

“I’m not a queen.” Allura protested, weakly. “I don’t even have a crown anymore.”

“You don’t need one.” Lance said, pointing at her chest. Confusion danced in Allura’s eyes. “It’s all in there. Isn’t that what you just said?”

“Oh, Lance…”

“He’s right.” Keith pitched in. “This is what you were born to do, Allura. We’re all gonna miss you, but we could never… I could never stop you from going, if that’s what you really want.”

Allura nodded, only once.

“I need to do this. They need me, my people need me.”

“I know. I —”

Keith stopped, shaking his head as if unsure what words should he say next — he’d never been good with them, after all —, and then he was launching himself at her. Arms curled around her neck, face buried in the soft locks of her hair. Lance gasped, because _that_ had never happened before, and if he was being completely honest to himself, he never thought it would. The abyss between the two of them was simply too great, too deep.

Lance whispered Keith’s name, placing a hand on his shoulder that was meant to be both comforting and reassuring. He liked to think he knew Keith. Or, at least, most of him. There was time for more, he knew that also. But the fact remained that Lance knew him, all the parts that mattered, all the parts Keith had allowed him to see. And, in that moment, Lance watched, in most absolute awe, the way Keith climbed over the emotional barriers he’d built throughout the years, how he clawed to Allura and let his pain be known. Words wouldn’t be enough for him. They never had been.

“Thank you, Allura.” Lance heard Keith murmur in the crook of Allura’s neck, muffled from the press of his mouth on the fabric of her collar. “For everything.”

She hugged him back, burying her nose where shoulder and clavicle met, and whispered something in his ear Lance was not able to hear, despite how close he stood next to them.

“Aw, guys, c’mon. I think this calls for a group hug.” Hunk proudly announced, surging forward without warning and crashing onto them with the force of a tidal wave.

Lance got caught in his strong embrace, arm tightly wrapped around his shoulders as he was pulled closer. Close enough to have his entire body pressed against Keith’s back, their thighs brushing together, his face disappearing in a curtain of inky black hair. Lance felt the pressure of more bodies as all of them, one by one, collided against each other. Closer, tighter, warmer. Lance breathed in the smell of earth and fire that came from Keith’s skin, holding on to the low of his back and gripping his jacket in a tightly-curled fist as he allowed himself to drift away further from shore, carried by those familiar waves, safe under Hunk’s arms, his solid chest, feeling the shape of Keith’s body against his own, engraved on skin and bone and memory. It felt _good_. It felt _right_. It felt _real_.

They broke apart after a short while, but Lance was reluctant to let go. With great effort, he managed to untangle himself from Keith and Hunk, hovering nearby like a planet out of orbit. Hunk still had his arm around Lance’s shoulders, and Lance felt his muscles relax almost instinctively. Hunk had always been able to exude a kind of peace and tranquility Lance so desperately craved, ever since a very young age. It was what first drew the two of them together, Lance liked to think, the ability to ground him with a simple touch, how the calm and the quiet seemed to follow soon after. It had been years and yet it was no different.

“Sorry about that, Keith. I know you’re not a hug person, but it’s just so good to have you back.” Hunk said to a disgruntled Keith, jacket crumpled and hair a disheveled mess on top of his head. “We were all really worried, y’know? For a moment there we thought —”

“Hunk.”

Shiro’s voice gave him pause and for that Lance was glad. He wanted to erase those past few days from his memory, all the pain and the hurt and the uncertainty of it all. But it was a hard thing to do, especially when he was being constantly reminded of how they almost lost Keith. Sometimes, Lance felt as though he was still roaming inside the maze of his head-space, lost to an endless dream.

“It’s good to be back, Hunk.” Keith said, not really looking at any of them in the eye. From where he stood, Lance could distinguish a flush of color on his cheeks. “I missed you guys too.”

“We know, buddy.”

“Yeah, you may act all tough on the outside, but we know deep down you care about all of us.” Pidge said, sending Keith a pointed glare before looking back at Allura, brows still knitted together, arms fiercely crossed. “It just sucks that we won’t all be together anymore. I don’t… I don’t want this to end.”

Allura kneeled down in front of them, hands rubbing circles up and down their arms until they relented with a heavy exhale, eyes closing briefly to hide the glint of fresh tears. Lance watched them from a small distance, nested in Hunk’s warm embrace, wishing to give them space. Shiro and Keith remained rooted to their spots as well, looking at the pair with a concerned furrow to their brows.

A bit farther from the rest of them stood Lotor, wary and distant, lips sealed shut and arms curled before his chest as he watched Allura and Pidge with unabashed intent.

“Pidge, listen to me.” Allura said softly, as if speaking to a child in need of comfort. Lance swallowed, wondering when they’d grown out of their teenage years. He felt a sharp pang at the thought of their stolen youth, lost to those years spent fighting in an intergalactic war. “This is not the end, okay? I promise to stay in touch no matter how far I go.”

Pidge sniffed, smothered behind a closed fist.

“Do you promise?”

Allura smiled.

“I promise.”

Beside Lance, Hunk let out a faint breath of air. His voice wobbled as it came out of his mouth, unsteady.

“Oh, man, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry this time.” he mumbled, wiping at his eyes.

Lance gave him a small pat on the shoulder, rubbing circles on his back.

“Let it all out, big guy.”

Hunk’s sobs were drowned out by the sudden rumble of Keith’s voice, booming across the room like thunder.

“Lotor, wait!”

Lance snapped his head to the side, where Lotor had come to an abrupt stop by the entrance, back turned towards the room. Keith took a step closer, then another, stilling in place as the Galra prince slowly turned around. A white lock of hair escaped from behind a pointy ear, falling before his yellow-blue eyes, making his expression even more difficult to read. His posture seemed to stiffen, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin, claws hidden behind closed fists.

“I —” Keith swallowed, giving it another try. “I wanted to thank you.”

Lotor frowned, visibly confused, foregoing his defensive posture as the meaning of Keith’s words dawned on him. Across the room, Lance couldn’t help but notice they all shared similar expressions. Keith opened his mouth, then closed it. He was having a hard time searching for words.

“You kept your word.” he said. “Before you left, you told me you’d be back. At the time I didn’t believe you, but you proved me wrong. So, um, thank you, Lotor.”

Lotor gave Keith a small nod of his head, moving so carefully it almost looked rehearsed. And, perhaps it had been, Lance was struck with an afterthought. He _was_ royalty, after all. He probably had had plenty of lessons on how to move and speak and make himself presentable, knowing from a very young age that even the simplest of things had rules he needed to uphold, an image to maintain.

For a fleeting moment, Lance felt terribly sorry for Lotor, thinking about all the things he could have done, all the people he could have become, if only things had been different, easier.

“I believe this makes us even now, paladin.” Lotor said, in that polished tone of his. “You saved my life and I saved yours. Now, if you excuse me, I have somewhere else I —”

“Lotor, stay.” Allura asked, pleading with her eyes from across the room. No one else dared to utter a word. “You don’t have to leave. Please, stay.”

Lotor shook his head. But something shifted in the lines of his face, a change so small it was barely noticeable, and yet it was there. In the tilt of his lips, the softness around his eyes.

“I told Acxa I’d stay with her.” he said. “Ezor and Zethrid have their own matters to attend to, and the other McClain seemed preoccupied with our impending arrival on your home planet.”

Lance gripped Hunk’s arm, blunt nails buried deep into soft flesh, eliciting a low protest from the yellow paladin.

“Ouch, Lance!” he grumbled, pulling his arm away from Lance’s grasp. “What was that for?”

“Did he just… Ezor and Zethrid are _here_? As in the Atlas?” Lance half whispered, half screamed.

“Yeah. They showed up during out battle with the Alteans. Apparently, Acxa had sent them an emergency signal.” Hunk murmured back. “They’ve been in the Atlas ever since. Most of the time they stay in Acxa’s room, so that’s probably why you haven’t seen them around.”

“What? How did I not know that?”

Hunk shrugged.

“You were pretty out of it after the battle and then you wouldn’t leave Keith’s bedside. We didn’t think it was worth mentioning. You had enough inside your head.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, man.” Hunk said, smiling softly. “But things are good now, right? With Keith?”

Lance blinked, urging those intrusive memories away, luxite blades and metal cuffs flashing behind his eyelids in quick succession, glimpses of a past he wished to forget.

“Yeah, I think so —”

_"Attention everyone, we’ll be entering Earth’s atmosphere soon. Prepare for landing.”_

Lance perked up at the sound of his sister’s voice coming through the Atlas’ speakers.

“That’s my cue.” Shiro said with a sigh, giving a light squeeze on Keith’s shoulder on his way outside. “I have to go back to the control room.”

“Shiro, wait up! I’m coming with you.” Pidge called, taking off after him and making sure Lotor was at the receiving end of their laser-sharp glare. “This room is feeling a bit crowded, in my opinion.”

Lotor seemed unfazed by the blatant disregard Pidge had for him, petrified under Allura’s blue gaze. There was a silent dispute between the two, neither of them willing to break eye contact and be the first to look away. Stubbornness was a trait inherited by royalty as well, it seemed. If Lance had to guess, he thought Lotor would be the first one to let go. He’d learned, long ago, never to bet against Allura, no matter the circumstances. This, right there, was no different.

“All this talk about going home is making me hungry.” Hunk mumbled, mostly to himself. “I think I’m gonna go to the kitchen and make myself something to eat. Wanna come?”

Lance chanced a look at Keith, unmoving at the far corner of the room, and shook his head. Hunk followed his line of sight and his eyes lit up with something akin to understanding. He put his hands down into his pockets and spun around towards the set of double doors, mouthing a very emphatic _“Talk to him”_ before venturing into the hallway.

Veronica’s voice reverberated across the room once again, slightly distorted due to static but somehow still familiar.

“Lotor!”

Lance caught movement at the corner of his eyes and forced himself to turn around, away from Keith — still by the large glass windows, arms crossed and eyes intent on the endless expanse of dark outside — and towards the entrance, doors open wide and Lotor only inches away. A flash of silver blinded Lance for what felt like a solid minute and it took him a moment to realize that had been Allura, flying past him like a snowstorm.

“Lotor, wait —”

She called again, but he was already gone.

As the doors closed behind him, the room fell quiet. The heavy kind, thick and impenetrable, weighing down on Allura’s shoulders, pulling at the corner of her lips. Down, down, down.

“Allura —”

“Don’t, Lance.” she rasped in a pant of breath, eyes never once meeting his. “I’m fine.”

And, then, she was gone. Just like everyone else. Lance sighed, long and almost rueful. There was only him, alone in that room with Keith. Everything else seemed to disappear, fading to a blissful quiet. Nothing could ever hurt them. No one could ever touch them. They were unreachable, together in a small pocket of the universe with only the stars to watch over them. Inside Lance’s head, a chorus of familiar voices chanted loudly.

_Tell him, tell him, tell him._

But his tongue felt heavy and his jaw ached. The words escaped his wavering grasp, lost to the chaos reigning deep inside him.

“Shouldn’t you go to the control room with Shiro?” is what left Lance’s mouth instead.

“Why should I?”

“You’re the leader of Voltron. It’s where they expect you to be.” when Keith didn’t respond, Lance moved closer, shoulders brushing as he extinguished the distance between them. “I bet Iverson is complaining about your lack of discipline as we speak. I wouldn’t want to be Shiro right now.”

There was a slight twitch at the corner of Keith’s lips, the tiniest indication of a smile. But enough to fill Lance’s chest with warmth.

“Why are you still here?” Keith asked, earning a dumbfounded exhale from Lance. “Veronica is at the control room. Don’t you want to be with your family?”

Lance paused, taking a deep breath. His eyes lingered on the chiseled lines of Keith’s profile, the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the subtle curve at the tip of his nose, the elegant slope of his neck.

“Nah, the view here is much better.” he said, turning away before Keith caught him staring. His eyes landed on a bright blue dot, a lone speck of light amidst a sea of pitch-black darkness. A faint breath escaped his parted lips. “Keith, look…”

“What?”

“It’s Earth! It’s home! We’re going home!” Lance exclaimed excitedly, a large smile taking over half of his face. His eyes grew in size, reflecting the silvery glow of the stars. He didn’t want to miss a single thing. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

A heartbeat passed in silence. And, then, came a wisp of sound, no more than a weak breath of air.

“Yeah…” Keith murmured beside him, distant and far-off. “It’s beautiful.”

There was a prickling sensation at the base of Lance’s spine, eyes on the side of his face, setting his skin on fire. Lance could feel his will slowly melting away and all of a sudden, he was drowning in the fathomless blue of Keith’s eyes. His heart almost skipped a beat.

“Keith, you’re not even looking.” Lance said, quivering.

Keith still wouldn’t look away, he didn’t so much as blink. His voice was firm as he spoke.

“I am.”

Lance’s cheeks burned from the blue fire dancing inside those dark, indigo eyes. Ears ringing from the resolute tone of his voice, the dooming quality of his words. His legs nearly gave out under Keith’s heated stare.

Lance opened his mouth to say —

Well, he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been about to say, but he should say _something_. Anything was preferable to the silence steadily settling between the two of them. His eyes fell on Keith’s hand for a brief instant, limp at his side, fingers as pale as moonlight peeking through the holes in his gloves. When Lance lifted his gaze, he noticed a small crease cutting between Keith’s thick eyebrows. Without thinking, he took a step forward, using the pad of his thumb to brush away the beginnings of a scowl.

“I like it better when you smile.” he said, listening to the hitch in Keith’s breath and smiling to himself. “There.”

“Lance —”

“No.” he cut in, startling Keith. But his voice lacked any real heat. “Let’s not talk right now. Later, like we promised. Okay?”

Keith nodded, parting his lips to allow a small “Okay” past them.

With his other hand, Lance reached blindly for Keith, intertwining their fingers close together, until there was no space left between them. Keith ran his thumb across the slopes of Lance’s knuckles, counting each bump, memorizing every scrape he found along the way.

Lance smiled wider when Keith’s eyes remained trained on him, trailing the freckles spattered across his cheeks, the curve of his nose, down to the bow of his upper lip.

“You’re still not looking.”

Keith smiled in return, just as soft.

“I am.”

Lance averted his eyes, feeling a telltale burn on his cheeks, blooming just below the skin there and crawling all the way up to the shell of his ears. His fingers curled tighter around Keith’s, strong enough to bruise. But Keith didn’t say anything, silent as dark gave way to blue, deep and beautiful and unlike anything Lance had ever seen. He might leave Earth a dozen times, and yet he would never cease to be amazed every time he laid eyes on that endless expanse of blue, as vivid as his mother’s eyes, as warm as the hand nested against his palm.

_Home_ , his heart fluttered with the thought, _we’re going home._

“You’re right, Lance.” Keith said, so low Lance thought he might have imagined it. “It really is beautiful.”

* * *

 

News of Haggar’s fall travelled fast across every planet of every galaxy, the tale of a group of five brave paladins that had brought an end to an empire of terror and together restored peace to the known universe. They were heroes. That much became clear the moment they set foot back on earthly soil, where a large crowd waited for the IGF-Atlas to land.

Lance’s eyes widened in surprise at the sea of people gathered around the Galaxy Garrison, head throbbing from a series of loud cheers and distant whistles. His lips parted of their own volition, letting out a sigh. Voltron had participated in celebrations before, in countless planets. Lance could still remember the thrill of being on a stage, listening to his name being chanted by thousands. It was exhilarating. But this —

This was _more_.

Because now they were being cheered on their home planet. Back on Earth. And, sure, they were strangers for the most part, but they were their people. All of them, together under a cloudless blue sky, suffering from the scorching heat of the Sonoran Desert, with smiles plastered on their faces and waving arms.

“Whoa!” Hunk exhaled from behind Lance. “That’s a lot of people.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“Should we… Do something?” Keith asked, tentatively. He stood beside Lance, a look of sheer panic shining in his eyes.

Lance struggled against the urge to laugh, managing a smile instead.

“I think they want you to make a speech.” he said, biting his lower lip at the way Keith snapped his head at him, terror written all over his features.

“W — What?”

Keith all but screeched, and Lance was unable to hold back his laughter any longer. He doubled over, resting a hand on Keith’s shoulder as small explosions of sound bubbled from his lips. Lance gave him a reassuring squeeze, noticing how stiff Keith had gotten, arms furled in front of his chest, jaw clenched.

“I’m joking, I’m joking. But, man, you should’ve seen your face.” Lance said, breathing still slightly ragged.

Keith scowled at him, pursing his lips into a thin line. But there was a small shift on the hard lines of his shoulder blades, tension slowly easing from his back muscles.

“You’re not funny, Lance.” he muttered, averting his gaze.

At that, Lance frowned.

“Hey, Keith, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to —” he paused, swallowing dry. “Listen, if Iverson really ask you to make a speech, which he probably will since you’re the black paladin and all that, I could speak on your behalf. But only if you want me to.”

Keith lifted his eyes back at him, open wide with quizzical curiosity, arms loosening their knot and falling limp by his thighs.

“You would do that?” he asked.

Lance nodded.

“I know how you can have a hard time with words sometimes. And, I wouldn’t mind, not really.” he said. “Besides, I’m still your right-hand man. That’s what I’m here for.”

Keith’s lips curled into a crooked smile and Lance wondered if he could blame the sudden flush of color on his cheeks on the desert heat. He closed his hand into a fist, the voices in his head singing a broken chorus of _tell him tell him tell him_.

Lance risked a glance at Keith, a speck of red lost in a sea of warm oranges and bright blues. Sunshine kissed the crown of his head and the side of his face, turning those indigo eyes a deep shade of violet. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair, inky-dark locks falling unruly across his forehead. Lance tried not to linger on the slope of his mouth, the long length of his lashes. He looked down at Keith’s wrist, hand slipping from his shoulder and brushing ever so softly against his fingers. The faintest touch, a feather-light pressure.

Lance wanted more.

He wanted to grab Keith by the hand and tell him.

He wanted, wanted, wanted.

He had been wanting for so long and now…

“Keith.” Lance whispered, but his voice was lost in the din of the crowd down below.

And, when he caught sight of Keith once again, he was already out of reach.

* * *

 

As it turned out, Iverson _did_ ask Keith to make a speech on behalf of the paladins of Voltron. He was their leader, after all, even if he hadn’t been an active part in the final battle against Haggar’s evil forces. But, according to the commander, the truth about what transpired inside the Galra ship was to be kept a secret to everyone but those on board of the Atlas. At least, that’s what Lance was able to overhear.

He exchanged a look with Keith, a silent question hovering in the air between them.

Lance had been about to climb up the stairs that led to the stage they had set up for celebrations when Keith grabbed him by the wrist, slowly shaking his head.

“I’ll do it.” he said in a rasp of voice, so low Lance had some difficulty to hear him.

Only when Keith stood tall and proud at the center of the stage did Lance fully understand the meaning of what he’d just told him. It was awkward, at first. Keith was no Shiro. He may be a naturally born pilot, but he was far from being an experienced leader. That much was made clear that moment. Lance remembered wincing at the sight of Keith struggling with the mic in his hand, desperately searching for the right words. Words of a leader. Words of a hero.

He did find them, eventually.

Lance was left in complete and utter silence, mouth hanging open and eyes wide, taking in how easily the words flowed from his lips. It was in the steady roll of his tongue, the elegant line of his shoulders and the sharp angles of his jaw. It was in the fire burning in his eyes, everlasting.

And, just like everyone else in that room, Lance found himself unable to look away.

It had been hours since Keith finished his speech, hours since loud cheers and whistles pierced his ears, now long faded. And still he couldn’t look away, trailing after Keith with eager eyes — trapped in Coran’s tight embrace, subject to Romelle’s hearty laugh before darting towards Shiro and Curtis, talking animatedly by the bar —, following his every movement across the crowded hangar where celebrations were being held. The music was loud, but not unbearably so, reverberating against the high ceilings; the beat resonated in Lance’s very bones, thrumming below his skin. He should be out there, celebrating their hard-won victory, dancing in that makeshift ballroom and twirling someone in his arms the way Lotor had been doing with Allura for the past hour.

But the only person he wanted to dance with had scurried to a distant corner, away from all the excitement.

Lance took another sip of his beverage while staring at Keith and Acxa as they talked, only partially hidden amidst a gathering of shadows. The alcohol bubbled against his tongue in tiny explosions of flavor, the colorful liquid sliding down his throat in bitter waves. Standing on the other side of the room, Lance had no way of knowing what they were discussing. Although he had a vague idea what it might be about. Acxa’s regret had been almost palpable during their accidental encounter in the Atlas’ hallway.

“You’re staring.”

Lance nearly choked on his drink, letting out a dry cough. He sent Allura a sharp glare, who had suddenly appeared by his side, as if sprouting from the floors at his feet. She did a poor job at concealing a smile, eyes alight with amusement.

“Allura!” he squeaked. “ _Díos_ , you almost gave me a heart attack. If you keep doing this I’m gonna have to put a bell around your neck, just like Kaltenecker.”

“Forgive me, Lance. I didn’t mean to startle you.” she said apologetically, barely managing to hold back a chuckle.

“Don’t laugh. This isn’t funny.” he said. “I could’ve died, y’know?”

Allura let out a breathy laugh, no more than a wisp of air, like tinkling bells. At Lance’s glowering stare, she covered her mouth with the back of her hand.

“It is a little bit funny.”

“No, it’s not.” he muttered under his breath, taking the glass back to his lips and hoping to hide the blush on his cheeks. “Besides, I wasn’t staring.”

“Oh, is that so?” Allura said teasingly.

Lance was quick to defend himself.

“I wasn’t!” at Allura’s raised eyebrows, Lance thought perhaps he’d been too quick in his rebuttal. “I — I wasn’t, Allura. I was just —”

“Lance, you haven’t taken your eyes away from Keith ever since we landed.” she said. Lance averted her gaze, staring at the nearly empty glass on his hand. “In fact, I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Hunk and Pidge came to talk to me and they seemed worried about you. They told me you and Keith haven’t really talked yet.”

Lance let out a sigh, falling heavy from his lips.

“We did talk.” he retorted. “But it wasn’t… It wasn’t about _us_ , y’know?”

A pause and then —

“Oh, I see.”

“I just…” Lance muttered under his breath, chewing on his bottom lip before releasing it with a trembling breath. “I don’t know how to tell him, Allura. I tried to. I did, but… I _can’t_. Something stops me every time.”

Allura gently removed the glass from his hands, forcing his eyes to meet hers. Lance inhaled sharply at the feel of Allura’s hand on top of his, a comforting warmth against his cold palms, dripping with sweat.

“It’s a scary thing. To be open about your feelings, to give your heart to someone else. Trust me, I know that.” she said, sparing a glance at Lotor, who seemed to have fallen victim to Rizavi’s insistent questions, a permanent grimace set on his face as he was forced to stare at Kinkade’s camera. Allura smiled fondly at him, a spark to her eyes. “But you should tell him, Lance.”

“Have you told Lotor?”

Allura bit on her lower lip, mulling over his words.

“I have.” she said with a nod, cheeks turning a darker shade. “But it’s… Different with us.”

Allura gave Lance’s hand a light squeeze, rubbing small circles on his knuckles in a soothing pace.

“Go on, Lance.” she said, letting him go. Lance held her gaze for a moment too long, mourning the loss of her touch. “Tell him.”

Lance breathed in and out, in and out, chancing a furtive glance back at Keith.

But he was no longer there, having vanished amidst a sea of people, swallowed whole by waves of familiar faces. Lance felt his stomach churn with the incessant flapping of butterfly wings.

He stormed after Acxa, finding her near the bar, face as unreadable as ever. Beside her, Veronica put a short lock of blue hair behind a pointy ear, cradling a sparkly yellow drink in her other hand, seemingly untouched. Eyes never once strayed from her face, or from her blue-tinted lips. Lance almost felt bad for intruding in what felt like such an intimate moment between the two of them. _Almost_.

“Acxa!”

She turned around with wide eyes, blinking in surprise.

“Acxa, have you seen Keith? Do you know where he went?” Lance asked, not bothering to hide the exasperation from his voice.

“Lance, slow down.” Veronica cut him short, frowning. “What happened? Is everything okay?”

“I — No, nothing happened. I just… I really need to talk to him and I can’t find him anywhere. I saw you two were talking and I thought —” he stammered, swallowing thickly. “I thought you might know where he went.”

Acxa looked at him with those bottomless blue eyes of hers and Lance ached.

“I think he might have gone to the Lions’ hangar.” she told him, pain ebbing from his chest. “I remember he said something about seeing the Black Lion.”

“Are you sure?”

Acxa nodded, and Lance spluttered a quick “Thanks”, unbridled and barely intelligible in his haste to leave, turning around on his heels and scurrying outside. Behind him, Veronica shouted his name, forcing him to an abrupt halt. Lance eyed her expectantly, heart hammering inside his chest, set on a hard, frantic pace.

“Go get him, little brother!”

* * *

 

Running past the set of automatic doors, Lance was flooded with a strange sense of confidence, like an ocean tide overflowing his insides in a relentless ebb and flow. For once, he felt brave. Brave enough to face his feelings, to lay his heart at somebody else’s feet. Braver than he ever thought possible.

He could taste the flames on his lips, swimming on his tongue, sliding down his throat and kindling a fire at the base of his stomach.

_Tell him._

_I’m gonna tell him._

The voices grew quieter with each step Lance took further into the corridors, listening to nothing but the beat of his own heart, slightly out of tune.

The Lions’ hangar was a cavernous space, vast and mostly empty, with high ceilings and large walls made out of metal, where even the smallest of sounds thrummed in formless, loud echoes. Lance heard the staccato pace of his footsteps across those pristine floors, the hiss of the doors sliding closed behind his back, a gust of wind kissing the nape of his neck and sending ripples of cold down his spine. He shuddered, clenching his jaw.

Lance lifted his eyes and was met with a pair of bright yellow orbs, glistening golden under the few rays of sunlight filtering through the openings high above. The Black Lion was an imposing figure, even with his jaw closed and his claws withdrawn, he was still bigger than the others, a much more terrifying sight. Lance let his eyes wander across the sleek lines of his crimson wings, the sharp edges of his paws, the matted black of his metallic fur. He was beautiful in the way all dangerous creatures were. Alluring, impossible to look away.

It reminded Lance of Keith, in a way. How he found himself drawn to him, enraptured by the sheer power that surrounded his entire being like an invisible force field. Lance moved closer, tugged by transparent hands, tentatively at first.

There, at the Black Lion’s large paws, Lance found Keith. He looked terribly small in comparison, but no less powerful. He was a force of nature, magnetic. Fire made flesh, sun personified.

Lance could feel his skin burn just from standing too close, momentarily blinded by the stars dotting those midnight eyes. He took a deep breath, mustering the courage to speak despite the knot constricting his throat.

_Tell him._

“You know,” Lance began, sounding somewhat stable to his own ears. “You can be a hard guy to find, Kogane.”

Keith turned around to face him, unable to hide the surprise from his face, mouth parting with a soundless gasp. When he spoke, there was a hitch to his breath, a strange cadence to his words.

“You were… Looking for me?” he asked, whispered almost like a secret between the two.

Lance smiled, lips working with a will of their own whenever Keith looked at him like _that_.

“Don’t sound so surprised, mullet. We’re friends now, right?” Lance had his eyes trained on Keith, waiting for a reaction. He found nothing other than a light twitch of his lips. “What are you doing here, anyway? We missed you back at the party.”

_I missed you_ , is what Lance meant to say but refrained himself at the last minute.

At that, Keith looked away, facing the Black Lion instead. He placed a hand on a patch of sleek metal, drawing small circles with his thumb, as if the sleeping Lion could feel such a fleeting touch. Lance trailed the corners of his lips as they curled an inch upwards. Eyes distant, miles away from there.

“I wanted to see Black. It’s been a while and I… Missed him.” Keith said, reluctantly pulling his hand away. “You know, when I was locked up in that cell, I tried reaching out to him. But I couldn’t feel our bond anymore. He was too far away, our connection was too weak.”

Keith closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. In the silence that followed, Lance could hear his chest slowly deflating, a breath of air leaving his mouth. He felt something sharp piercing through the skin between his ribs, grazing bone and prickling at his heart.

“I had grown used to hearing Black in the back of my mind, even when he didn’t say anything, I could still feel him there, y’know?” Keith opened his eyes, staring at Lance, who could only nod in response, gingerly tugging at the invisible ribbon connecting his consciousness to Red’s. He received a low purr in response and his entire body relaxed at once. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alone, with nothing but my own thoughts to keep me company. There was a time I thought I was gonna go mad.”

Lance could hear the pain in Keith’s voice, seeping into his ears like poison. His chest heaved, throbbing from the heartache. He struggled with his words, desperately searching for the right ones. But they eluded him, like a flimsy cloud of smoke. When he opened his mouth, the sound that came out of his throat was barely audible.

“You’re not alone, Keith.” and, then, with a much stronger voice. “I’m here. We’re all here for you. Shiro, Allura, Hunk, Pidge, Coran, your mom. Even Kolivan. You’ll never be alone again.”

Keith blinked and his lips tipped to the side, slightly off-kilter. His eyes were glistening with the glow from a thousand stars. Lance could feel his throat closing up, mind reeling with roaming thoughts, hazy with the afterglow of memories.

_We could talk later, if you want to._

_Later, like we promised._

_You should tell him, Lance._

“Keith, I — I have to tell you something.” he blurted out, chiding himself mentally when his voice came out strangled, tearing apart at the seams. “I came here to find you because I…”

When the words stopped pouring from his lips, Keith urged him to continue.

“What is it?”

Lance could feel himself becoming restless, a ball of anxious energy bouncing against his insides. He sent Black a side glance, eyes falling to the sterile surface of the floors, the walls. Clean, pristine, void. He felt cold all of a sudden, balancing his weight on a thin sheet of ice. It was almost as if someone had dipped his head into the surface of a frozen lake. Clearing his throat, Lance forced the words out, shaking his head.

“No, not here.” he said under his breath. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

Keith stared at him, eyes impossibly round and bright. When he spoke, his voice was syrupy-like, thick with something Lance couldn’t yet name.

“Where?”

Lance didn’t bother searching for words then, sensing the knot in his throat growing. He swallowed with some difficulty, ripping a page out of Keith’s book and surrendering to instinct. In a sudden, bold movement Lance reached for Keith’s hand, intertwining their fingers together, forgoing his words and choosing to trust his actions instead. A soft gasp erupted from Keith’s throat, his ears reddened and his lips parted open, awestruck.

“Come with me. I know a place.”

* * *

 

“Lance, are you gonna tell me where we’re going?”

Keith’s voice echoed against the walls of the narrow corridor, a wariness to his every step as he climbed up the stairs. Lance listened to his labored breath, looking over his shoulder. Indigo eyes appeared black under the dim lights, pale skin turned ashen gray, more ghost than boy. He flashed Keith a smile, giving his wrist a light squeeze, still under his grasp.

Sensing he wouldn’t get a response from Lance, Keith’s eyebrows knotted together into a frown.

“ _Lance._ ”

Laughter bubbled from Lance’s chest, unbidden. He was no longer looking back at Keith, but he could picture in perfect detail those pursed lips and angry scowl, the sight burned behind his eyelids.

“Lance, where are you taking me?” Keith pressed, huffing in frustration at the silence that followed.

“Calm down, we’re almost there.” Lance finally conceded, tugging Keith along the last three steps. A loud curse erupted from the shadows. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I only tripped on a step.” Keith grumbled.

Lance exhaled through his mouth.

“Be careful.” he said, coming to a stop. He loosened his hold on Keith’s wrist and used his now free hand to work the old lock on the door. “Just hang on for a little bit… Ah! There! C’mon, Keith.”

Lance pushed the door open and light filled the small space, casting the shadows away and drenching Keith’s face in golden and yellow hues. He narrowed his eyes at the sudden clarity, sending Lance a quizzical look, mouth hanging open and then falling closed.

Outside, the sun shone golden at the horizon, slowly setting. A few, scattered clouds dotted the sky, painted in warm shades of orange and magenta. Lance tore his eyes away from the approaching twilight and chanced a glance at Keith. The dying rays of sunlight glided down the side of his face, enveloping his sharp features in a flaming halo.

Fire kissed his jade skin golden, long eyelashes casting shadows down the slope of his cheeks. A soft breeze brushed away loose strands of hair from his eyes, a work of invisible fingers, a featherlight touch. Lance closed his hands, digging his nails into old scars to prevent himself from reaching out and placing a lock of jet-black hair behind Keith’s ear.

“What is this place?” Keith asked, climbing the final steps until he was standing beside Lance.

“It’s the roof, Keith. Obviously. Couldn’t you tell?” Lance retorted teasingly, with an impish smile.

“I can see that, _obviously_.” Keith hissed through his teeth. “But why did you bring me here?”

“Oh, um, I —” Lance let out a nervous chuckle, avoiding Keith’s glare and scratching the back of his head with fidgety fingers. “I just thought we could use some privacy, y’know? To talk without the risk of anyone walking in on us or being eavesdropped. I mean, you know how Pidge is.”

Keith walked closer to the edge of the rooftop, burying his hands in his pockets as he looked down, tilting his body forward in a way that made Lance’s stomach churn uncomfortably. He felt like grabbing Keith by the shoulders and pulling him away from the ledge, but instead he took a step closer, trying to catch a glimpse of his face, hoping to unravel the series of emotions swirling in those eyes.

“We’re really far from there.” Keith blurted.

“Yeah, we are.”

“And are you sure they won’t find us here?”

Lance shook his head, following Keith’s eyes down below, through the vastness of the desert, a blanket of sand covering miles of wilderness, shimmering gold under a scorching sun. Farther, farther. Until blood-red canyons broke at the horizon, tall and imposing and slightly terrifying. Until walls made of hard, solid stones caved in, flooded with blue light and an earth-shattering roar, revealing a thousand-year-old secret. Until arid land met blue sky, and farther still.

So very far from those reckless boys who rode a battered hoverbike together in the dead of night, jumping from a cliff and into the unknown, forgoing rules, severing any order that might still tether them to this earth.

They couldn’t be found then. They wouldn’t be found now.

“It’s just us.” Lance said and from the corner of his eye he saw the straight line of Keith’s shoulders soften.

“Just us.” he echoed, mulling over the words before lowering to a sitting position, one leg braced against his chest while the other hung from the ledge, mindlessly wagging back and forth. “What is so important that you had to bring me all the way up here to tell me?”

With a deep, calming breath Lance took a sit beside Keith, both of his legs thrown over the edge of the roof.

_Tell him, tell him, tell him_ —

“I, um, I wanted to give this back to you.” Lance pulled out the Marmoran blade he’d been carrying along ever since Krolia gave it to him, sitting on that same rooftop, on a starry night not so long ago. “It’s yours, so… Take it.”

Keith’s eyes traveled down the length of Lance’s wrist, trailing those long fingers before falling on his open hand, where the emblazoned hilt of a knife laid untouched, not a single scratch marring its surface, glowing a familiar purple. His movements were controlled, as if he was afraid it might disappear if he dared moving too fast, too eager. With a care that felt almost foreign, Keith brushed his fingertips across its cut-glass blade. Rays of light glistened against the sleek surface, driving away the shadows crawling along Keith’s neck and face.

“I thought I’d lost it when Acxa —” he trailed off, lifting his eyes to Lance, who sat in silence, patiently waiting. “How did you… Why do you have it?”

“Your mother gave it to me.” Lance said, ignoring the way Keith’s eyes widened at once. “She said you’d want me to have it.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, she —” Lance bit his bottom lip, freezing in place the moment Keith let his fingers roam across his palm, trailing the white path drawn by his scars. He shivered despite the numbness there. “She wouldn’t let me give it back to her, so I kept it with me.”

If Keith’s cheekbones were dusted pink, Lance pretended not to notice, blaming the sudden flush of color on a trick of light. Keith had yet to take the blade from his hand, running a finger over that same spot Lance had touched.

“Did you… Did you ever have to use it?”

Lance swallowed.

“Only once.”

Keith pursed his lips into a thin line, as if refraining himself from blurting out a bitter retort. Still, he wouldn’t move, glaring at the blade as if it had nipped at his fingertips.

Lance tugged Keith by the wrist, placing the knife on his hand and securing his fingers around the hilt. Keith opened his mouth, to protest no doubt, but Lance was faster… For once.

“Take it, Keith. It belongs to you.” he said, resting his hand on top of Keith’s for a moment longer. “I know how much this knife means to you.”

Keith looked away from his blue, blue eyes. Blade nested on his gloved palms, where it belonged, finally returned to its rightful owner. Lance’s chest warmed at the sight, but the flames were quickly extinguished at the downward spiral of Keith’s lips, the slumped curve of his shoulders.

“Keith? What’s wrong?”

“I wanted you to be safe.” Keith said, still not looking at Lance. “After the battle with the robeast, you know the one we barely survived, I couldn’t stop thinking about a day when I might actually not make it. The thought haunted me, day and night in that infirmary room. So, I — I had to take some precautions.”

Lance frowned, fingers curling ever so slightly around Keith’s knuckles. He didn’t seem to notice, lost in his own trail of memories.

“I told my mom that if anything ever happened to me, she was supposed to give you my blade. To keep you safe, to give you a chance at surviving if you ever found yourself in a close combat situation. I didn’t know back then that your bayard could turn into a sword.” he confessed, voice bleeding with open honesty. Lance held on tighter, until his fingers grew numb. “But knowing you actually had to —” Keith shook his head. “Lance, I’m sorry you had to use it. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you. I —”

Lance gave his hand a hard squeeze, knuckles trapped under a vicious grip. Keith’s eyes shot up in a mixture of shock and disbelief, voice fading to a strangled gasp as he took in the sheer determination in those stormy blue orbs. Lance could hear the crack of bone as he gritted his teeth, eyebrows knotted together into a frown. When he spoke, his voice sounded alien to his own ears, heavy with emotion.

“Keith, _stop_.” he bristled, eyes bored into Keith’s. “Don’t you dare apologize. Didn’t you understand when I told you the first time? None of this was your fault. I didn’t bring you here for you to apologize, so stop. Just… Stop.”

Keith fell silent, pale skin turned amber under the setting sun. Lance couldn’t remember a time when Keith had looked as beautiful as he did then, painted in the soft hues of twilight, sunlight casting a fiery crown around his dark hair.

“Then why did you bring me here, Lance?”

Keith’s words were blunt, curt. But there was no accusation in his tone, only hints of confusion.

Lance couldn’t help but think about how much they’d lost along the way, how much time they’d wasted. How much blood was spilt, how many tears were shed. The path that had led them here — back home, back to each other — was paved on nothing but pain and heartache. A shadow lurking his every thought, a longing to be seen, a misunderstanding that soon transformed into a one-sided rivalry.

The lies.

So many of them.

Some harmless, too small to be remembered amidst the blur of his thoughts. Others too great to ever be forgotten, ingrained deep in the back of his mind. Feelings that had been denied, taking root in his beating heart. How it festered in his bloodstream, like disease. How his chest ached at the memory, tainted with regret.              

He looked at Keith, who was still staring at him with those dark, indigo eyes. Shadows danced across the hard planes of his face and Lance gazed at him for a little longer before forcing himself to look away.

There had been some brighter moments too — Keith cradling him in his arms, Keith unlocking his bayard to protect him from a fatal blow, Keith calling out his name in the middle of battle, brittle and laced with terror. It had been the only sound Lance was able to make out amidst the chaos, white noise ringing in his ears after being hit in the blast of a nearby explosion. A formless memory, blurred around the edges like the stuff from dreams. But no less real.

And, in those moments — however small they might be —, Lance let himself believe that perhaps there was still hope. That Keith — cold, aloof Keith — might feel the same way.

Moments like the one they shared right then, together on top of that roof, bathed in sunlight. Their bodies close, their eyes locked. With the world beneath their feet, far, far away.

“I missed you, Keith.” Lance said, falling into the abyss of his eyes. “I know I already told you that, but I needed to tell you again because… Because I don’t think you understand how much it hurt, to not know where you were, to not know if I’d ever see you again, if I’d ever have the chance to —”

Lance closed his eyes, exhaling through his mouth.

“I could literally feel your absence in my bones, Keith. I missed you so much, the pain was almost physical. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, I didn’t even know how I was still breathing.” he continued, still avoiding Keith’s eyes. “I’m not saying all that to make you feel bad or anything. I just… I needed you to know.”

Silence, and then, in a quiet voice —

“Lance,” blue eyes met a dark, stormy gaze. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because…” he inhaled sharply, lips quivering. “Because I need you to know how much you mean to me, Keith. How much I —”

Lance opened his mouth, but the words died on his lips. He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath…

But it was Keith who broke the silence.

“I missed you too, Lance.” he muttered. “I thought about you everyday. My dreams were filled with the blue of your eyes, my ears filled with the sound of your laughter. Everywhere I looked I only ever saw _you_.”

Lance leaned closer, only a fraction, but enough for their knuckles to bump into one another. Liquid fire coursed through his veins, setting his skin ablaze. Lance held his breath and with tentative care he grazed Keith’s fingertips with his own. When Keith didn’t pull away, Lance moved closer, pressing their palms together and tangling their fingers in a tight embrace.

He let out the breath he’d been holding, a shaky smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

“Keith.” Lance whispered, finding his voice once again. Keith looked at him. And looked, and looked. “I… I never really hated you. I was just… I was scared.”

“Scared?” he frowned. Lance nodded. “Of what? Of _me_?”

“No, not you. I was scared of what you made me feel. It was… Too much. You made me feel so much, Keith. I wasn’t ready, I — I’m sorry.”

Keith held onto Lance’s hand with trembling fingers, from nervousness or something else entirely, Lance wasn’t sure. He took a deep breath. In and out. In and out. In and out.

“Lance.”

When Lance met his eyes again, he nearly lost his balance, faltering from the sheer intensity of that gaze.

“Keith,” he whispered. “I… I really like you.”

And the clouds held in those dark eyes dispersed, blown away by the unseen force of his words. The small frown settled between Keith’s eyebrows softened, lines growing smooth and unblemished once again.

“You… You like me?”

Around them, the word grew dark and quiet. The sun had finally set, fading into oblivion. Above their heads, night fell. Goldens and purples gave way to a deep, bottomless blue that matched the color of Keith’s eyes. A blanket of stars covered the endless expanse of the night sky, shimmering in bright hues of silvery-white.

“Yes… I — I always have.” Lance chewed on his bottom lip, peering at Keith from behind his eyelashes. “Ever since I first saw you, in that first day of class. You were piloting that simulator and I — I couldn’t look away…”

Lance thought about all of those days he spent looking at Keith — during class, across a busy cafeteria or on his way to the dormitories. _Look at me, look at me!_ He felt like screaming every time he crossed paths with Keith, however fleeting their encounters might be. But he’d remained silent throughout every brush of arms, every accidental eye contact, purposefully ignoring the heat that threatened to engulf his cheeks, the splotches of color dotting his neck, the reddening of his ears. For the first time in his life, Lance had felt terrified of what might come out of his mouth, clamping his lips tightly shut.

Looking back, a part of him had always known.

He just wasn’t brave enough…

But he is now.

“… I still can’t.” he said, leaning in the rest of the way, until their noses bumped into each other.

Keith’s eyes fluttered closed, heaving a breathless sigh. His lips trembled, corners twitching ever so slightly. He gripped Lance’s hand with enough force to bruise, pressing the white pad of his fingers into bronze flesh, as if they could somehow melt together, become one.

“Lance.”

That was all that came out of Keith’s mouth before he extinguished the lingering distance between their bodies, surging forward with a new-found determination. He pressed their foreheads together, running calloused fingers on the nape of Lance’s neck, carding through short, brown curls. They were close enough for Lance to be able to count every fluttering eyelash, every crack in those parched lips.

“I really like you too.” Keith murmured.

The air escaped Lance’s lungs, heart coming to a dangerous halt. His voice was no more than a whisper as it left his lips.

“Can I… Can I kiss you?”

And, then, just as quiet —

“Yes.”

As soon as the word left his lips, Lance leaned in, pressing their chests impossibly close, hands coming to cradle Keith’s face in a cocoon of warmth. He swallowed a startled pant of breath that threatened to heave out of Keith’s open mouth, tasting those three little letters still hanging from the tip of his tongue.

Their lips found each other and the choking hold around Lance’s heart disappeared into thin air, all of his worries suddenly forgotten. He was hesitant at first, kissing him slowly, languish; savoring every strangled breath, every frenzied noise that escaped the back of his throat. There was no night, no stars left in the sky, no sound but for the rapid beat of their hearts, the ragged wisps of their breaths. There was only Keith, Keith, Keith.

Keith’s arms around his neck. Keith’s hands tugging at his hair, his legs tangling between Lance’s. It was in the way his lips parted to allow Lance’s tongue inside and in the small noises that left his swollen lips, after being tugged and nipped and nearly devoured.

Keith fell on his back with a low groan, gasping into Lance’s mouth when he landed on top of him. Their lips parted and Lance broke into a smile. Underneath him, Keith stared, wonderstruck. With the pad of his thumb, he traced the bow of Lance’s bottom lip, the small dimple carved on the side of his face. Their eyes met and Lance brushed their noses together.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear this.” he said, relishing in the aftertaste of Keith’s lips.

“Lance,” Keith breathed out, almost reverently. “I’m not dreaming, am I? We’re really home. You’re really here.”

Lance pressed his forehead against Keith’s, fingers buried between dark locks of hair. Slowly, he shook his head.

“I’m here. We’re home.” he said, placing Keith’s hand onto his chest, to the frantic beat of his heart. “Can you feel this? It’s for you, Keith… It’s all for you.”

The chilly night air peppered Keith’s skin with shivers and his body trembled under the moonlight.

“Lance…”

“I love you, Keith… I’m in love with you. I want to take you out on dates and to introduce you to my parents and to show you the little house where I grew up in Varadero. I want to do everything with you.”

Keith’s hand curled into a fist against Lance’s chest, crumpling the blue and white fabric between his fingers. He leaned in, tilting his chin forward, lips grazing Lance’s mouth, breaths mingling together. He smiled, so achingly beautiful.

A cold gust of wind ruffled his hair, raising goosebumps down his back. But Lance remained unfazed, blissfully enveloped in Keith’s body heat.

“Kiss me again.” Keith whispered into Lance’s mouth.

They smiled against each other’s lips, lost in their searing embrace, and Lance kissed him — again and again —, tasting that starry desert night from his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one more chapter left... prepare for lots and lots of fluff!

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think of it so far and don't hesitate to leave comments below! I'll try my best to update this fic regularly, at least once a week. Also, the title for this chapter comes from the song 'Bridges' by Broods. Yall should check it out because it's honestly so good...  
> Any doubts and questions, just message me on tumblr (@vlctorvale) x


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